M  I 


L  I  B  Ji  ^  K  Y 


Theological     Se 


m  i  n  a  r  y 


PRINCETON,    N.    J 


S/n 

Bo 


Macleod, 
Memoir  of 


M25S  M32  1S77 


Donald, 
Norman 


1831-191 
Macleod 


MEMOIR  OF 

NORMAN    MACLEOD,   D.D, 


John  F.  Tkow  &  Son, 

PrINTEKS   AN'l)    IjUUKIIINDKRS, 

205-213  Edst  lit'i  St., 

NEW    YOKK. 


DtHtcatcU 
TO    HIS    MOTHER, 


NOW   IN   HER   NINETY-FIRST   YEAR, 

tN    AiTECTIONATE   REMEMBRANCE    OF   ALL   THAT    HER    CHILDREN 

AND    HER    children's    CHILDREN    OWE 

10    HER   INFLUENCE. 


PEEFACE. 


^T/'HEiS'  asked,  two  years  ago,  to  compile  a  Memoir 
'  '  of  my  brother,  I  did  not  accept  the  task  with- 
out considerable  hesitation.  Besides  the  charge  of  a 
city  parish,  heavy  responsibilities  of  another  nature 
had  devolved  upon  me,  so  that  it  seemed  impossible  to 
undertake  additional  labour.  I  felt  also  that,  in  some 
respects,  a  near  relative  was  not  well  qualified  to  fill 
satisfactorily  the  office  of  biographer.  These  objec- 
tions were,  however,  overruled  by  friends  on  whose 
judgment  I  relied. 

If  afiection  should  have  rendered  it  difficult  to  be 
always  impartial,  I  may  be  allowed,  on  the  other 
hand,  to  derive  some  comfort  from  the  reflection  that 
a  lifelong  intercourse,  as  frank  and  confidential  as 
could  exist  between  two  brothers,  gave  me  oppor- 
tunities for  knowing  his  thoughts  and  opinions,  which 
few  others^  and  certainly  no  stranger,  could  have 
possessed. 

-Dr.  Macleod  was  a  man  whom  it  is  almost  im- 
possible to  portray.     His  power  was  in  many  ways 


viii  f'RLFACE. 

inseparable  from  liis  presence.  The  sympathy,  the 
hnmour,  the  tenderness  depended  so  much  for  their 
full  expression  on  look,  voice,  and  manner,  that  all 
wlio  knew  him  will  recognise  the  necessary  inadequacy 
of  verbal  description.  'Quantum  mutatus  ab  illo' 
must  more  esjDecially  be  the  verdict  upon  any  attempt 
to  record  instances  of  his  wit  or  pathos. 

I  must,  however,  claim  for  this  biography  the  inerit 
of  truthfulness.  In  whatever  respects  it  may  fail, 
it  cannot,  I  think,  be  charged  wdth  conscious  conceal- 
ment or  exaggeration  of  fact  or  sentiment.  Faults  of 
another  kind  will,  I  trust,  be  forgiven  for  the  sake  of 
the  great  reverence  and  love  I  bore  him. 

I  beg  gratefully  to  acknowledge  the  aid  rendered 
by  many  friends.  The  pages  of  the  Memoir  indicate 
that  my  obligations  to  Principal  Shairp,  Dr.  Watson, 
and  my  brother-in-law,  Dr.  Clerk,  have  been  great; 
but  there  were  many  others  to  whom  I  am  indebted 
for  much  assistance,  and  to  whom  I  tender  my  best 
thanks.  Among  these  I  may  mention  the  Dean  of 
Westminster,  Mr.  Service,  J.  A.  Campbell,  Esq., 
LL.D.,  Alex.  11.  Japp,  Esq.,  A.  D.  McGrigor,  Esq., 
and  Dr.  W.  C.  Smith.  I  need  scarcely  add  that  ]\Irs. 
Norman  Macleod,  by  her  constant  advice  and  her 
careful  arrangement  of  her  husband's  papers,  gave  me 
invaluable  help.  * 

It  may  be  well  to  state  here  that  all  the  illustra- 
tions are  from  etchings  by  Dr.  INIacleod,  with  tlie  ex- 
ception of  the  view  of  Aros  by  ]Mr.    Keid,  the  sketch 


PREFACE.  IX 

of  the  Back  Study  by  Mr.  Ealston,  and  of  the  Monu- 
ment at  Campsie  by  Mr.  Catterns. 

In  conclusion,  I  must  express  regret  that  the 
appearance  of  this  book  has  been  delayed  so  long. 
It  can  be  said  in  apology,  that  no  available  time  has 
been  lost  during  the  two  years  I  have  been  engaged 
in  writing  it. 

Now  that  it  is  completed,  no  one  can  be  more  sensi- 
ble than  I  am  of  its  imperfections.  It  will,  however, 
be  to  me  a  source  of  inexpressible  gratitude,  if,  in 
spite  of  its  many  deficiencies,  it  should  convey  to  those 
who  did  not  know  Norman  Macleod,  some  sense,  how- 
ever inadequate,  of  the  depth  of  his  goodness,  of  his 
rich  humanity,  his  childlike  faith,  catholicity,  and 
devotion. 


1,  Woodlands  Terrace,  Glasgow, 
January,  1S76. 


CONTENTS. 


VOL.    I. 

CHAP. 

I.— PARENTAGE 

II. — BOYHOOD 

III. — E.-IRLY   COLLEGE    DAYS 

IV.— WEIMAR 

V. — APRIL.  1835— NOVEMBER,  1836     .... 

VL— 1836— 7 

VIL — EARLY    MINISTRY    IN   LOUDOUN    .... 
VIIL — THE   DISRUPTION    CONTROVERSY 

IX. — DALKEITH,    DECEMBER,    1843— .lUNE,    1845 

X. — 1845. — NORTH   AMERICA 

XI. — EVANGELICAL    ALLIANCE,    AND    TOUR     IN     PRUSSIAN 

LAND  AND   SILESIA 

XIL  —  LAST  YEARS  AT   DALKEITH. — 1848—1851     . 


PAGE 
1 

13 

27 

45 

63 

86 

114 

170 

211 

234 


253 

274 


APPENDIX    A.— REMINISCENCES     WRITTEN      BY     HIS      FATHER     IN 

OLD   AGE 331 

"  B. — A   CRACK  ABOOT    THE    KIRK    FOR    KINTRA   FOLK        .       340 


VOL.  IL 

xiii.— 1851— 1856 ...  1 

xrv.— 1857— 1859 ...  57 

XV.— 18G0— 61 95 

XVI. -1863— 63 117 

xvn.— 1864— 65 158 

XVriL  — SABBATH  CONTROVERSY •  .188 

XIX. — SOME   CHARACTERISTICS 213 

XX. — INDIA 242 

XXL— 1868 281 

XXII. — MODERATORSHIP  AND   PATRONAGE,    1869 — 70      .           .           .  297 

xxm.— 1871— 73 335 

XXrV. — HIS  DEATH 367 

XXV.— THE   FUNERAL 393 

APPENDIX   A 400 

B 403 

c 403 


CHAPTER  I. 

PARENTAGE. 

AT  the  end  of  last  century  there  were  two  famillef? 
residing  on  opposite  shores  of  the  Sound  of  Mull, 
in  Argyllshire,  their  houses  fronting  one  another 
across  the  blue  strait  which  winds  in  from  the  Atlantic. 
From  the  windows  of  the  Manse  of  Mr.  Macleod,  the 
minister  of  Morven,  on  the  n  ainland,  could  be  seen  the 
dark  ruins  of  the  old  castle  of  Aros,  in  the  island  of 
Mull,  frowning  from  its  rocky  eminence  over  the  Bay 
of  Salen,  and  behind  the  castle  appeared  the  house  of 
Mr.  Maxwell,  the  chamberlain  of  the  Duke  of  Argyll, 
and  'tacksman'*  of  Aros.  These  were  the  homes 
where  the  father  and  mother  (>f  Norman  Macleod  were 
then  enjoying  their  happy  youth. 

This  memoir  must  begin  with  a  sketch  of  these 
families,  and  of  the  early  life  of  that  youthful  pair ; 
for  on  few  men  had  early  influences  a  more  permanent 
hold  than  on  Norman  Macleod.  What  he  was  to 
the  last,  in  some  of  the  most  conspicuous  features  of 
his  character,  could  be  easily  traced  to  the  early  asso- 

*  There  are  few  now  remaining  of  the  class  called  '  Gentlemen 
Tacksmen,'  who  ranked  between  laird  and  farmer,  and  once  formed 
the  bone  and  sinew  of  the  Highlands. 

VOL.  T.  B 


2  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

ciations  which  chistored  round  ]\[orven  .ind  ^fiill. 
Tlio  IIij;lilaii(ls  of  tliosc  days  no  lonj^or  oxi^t,  hut  lie 
inludod  in  liis  cliihlliood  the  aroma  of  an  oklcn  time, 
and  k'arned  from  both  father  and  mother  so  much  of 
its  healthy  and  kindly  spirit,  as  left  about  his  life,  to 
tlic  last  moment,  a  fragrance  of  the  romance  of  which 
it  was  full. 

Except  to  those  immediately  concerned,  genealopios 
are  uninteresting,  and  those  of  Highland  families,  with 
their  endless  ramifications,  eminently  unprofitable.  It 
will  be  sufficient  to  state  that  I  have  before  me  a 
family  '  tree,' — such  as  used  to  be  so  common  in  the 
Highlands — in  which  are  the  names  of  the  Came- 
rons  of  Glcndessary,  scions  of  Lochiel ;  of  the  Camp- 
bells of  Ensay  and  of  Saddell ;  of  the  MacNeils  of 
Crear ;  of  the  MacXeils  of  Drumdrissaig ;  and  of  the 
Campbells  of  Duntroon — names  once  well  known  in 
their  own  country,  although  now,  alas !  in  some 
instances  only  found  there  on  moss-grown  tombstones. 

Not  far  from  Dun  vegan  Castle,  in  Skye,  a  roofless 
house, — its  garden  weed-grown  and  abandoned  to 
utter  solitude, — marks  the  place  where  lived  Donald 
Macleod,  the  tacksman  of  Swordale,  who  married  Anne 
Campbell,  a  sister  of  Campbell  of  Glensaddell.  lie 
was  the  great-grandfather  of  Norman,  who  used  to  re- 
peat with  grateful  memory  the  tradition  of  '  Swordale, 
having  been  a  good  man,  and  the  iirst  in  his  neigh- 
bourhood to  introduce  regular  family  worship.'  The 
eldest  son  of  tliis  good  man,  and  the  grandfather  of 
the  subject  of  this  memoir,  was  called  Norman.  lie 
was  educated  for  the  Church,  and  in  the  year  1774 
was  ordained  minister  of  the  parish  of  IMorvon,   in 


PARENTAGE.  3 

Argyllsliire,  that  * Iligliland  parish'  so  affectionately 
described  in  the  '  Eeminiscences.'  *  The  house  of 
Fiunary,  as  the  Manse  was  called,  has  given  place  to 
a  better  and  more  ornamental  dwelling.  Pleasant 
woods  now  cover  the  green  bank  beside  the  bright 
burn  where  stood  the  square  house  of  orthodox  Manse 
architecture — a  porch  in  the  centre  and  a  wing  at 
each  end— and  where  grew  up  the  happiest  of  families 
in  the  most  loving  of  homes.  Norman  thus  describes 
Morven : — 

"A  long  ridge  of  hill,  rising  some  two  thousand  feet 
above  the  sea,  its  brown  sides,  up  to  a  certain  height, 
chequered  with  green  strips  and  patches  of  cultivation, 
brown  heather,  thatched  cottages,  with  white  walls  ;  here 
and  there  a  mansion,  whose  chimney^  are  seen  above  the 
trees  which  shelter  it  ;— these  are  the  chief  features  along 
its  sea-board  of  many  miles.  But  how  different  is  the 
whole  scene  when  one  lands  !  New  beauties  reveal  them- 
selves, and  every  object  seems  to  change  its  size,  appear- 
ance, and  relative  position.  A  rocky  wall  of  wondrous 
beauty,  the  rampart  of  the  old  upraised  beach  which 
girdles  Scotland,  runs  along  the  shore  ;  the  natural  wild- 
wood  of  ash,  oak,  and  birch,  with  the  hazel-copse,  clothes 
the  lower  hills,  aod  shelters  the  herds  of  wandering 
cattle ;  lonely  sequestered  bays  are  everywhere  scooped 
out  into  beautiful  harbours  ;  points  and  promontories  seem 
to  grow  out  of  the  land  ;  and  huge  dykes  of  whinstone 
fashion  to  themselves  the  most  picturesque  outlines  ;  clear 
streams  everywhere  hasten  on  to  the  sea;  small  glens, 
perfect  gems  of  beauty,  open  up  entrances  into  deep 
dark  pools,  hemmed  in  by  steep  banks,  hanging  with 
rowan-trees,  ivy,  honeysuckle,  and  ferns;  while  on  the 
hill- sides  scattered  cottages,  small  farms,  and  shepherds' 
huts,  the  signs  of  culture  and  industry,  give  life  to  the 
whole  scene." 

*  "Reminiscences  of  a  Highland  Parish,"  by  Norman  Macleod, 
D.D.     Strahan  and  Co.     1868. 

B  2 


4  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Tills  minister  of  Morven  was  in  many  ways  a  re- 
markable man.  Noblc-lookinj^  and  elocpient,  a  ^ood 
scholar,  and  true  pastor,  he  lived  as  a  patriarch  amoni; 
his  people.  lie  had  a  small  stipend,  and,  as  its  usual 
concomitant,  a  large  family.  Sixteen  children  were 
born  in  the  manse,  and  a  number  of  families — a 
shepherd,  a  boatman,  a  ploughman, — were  settled  on 
the  glebe  with  others  who  had  come  there  in  their 
need,  and  were  not  turned  away.  Never  was  a 
simiDlcr  or  more  loving  household.  The  minister 
delighted  to  make  all  around  him  happy.  His  piety 
was  earnest,  liealthy  and  genial.  If  the  boys  had 
their  classics  and  the  girls  their  needlework,  there 
was  no  grudging  of  their  enjoyments.  The  open 
seas  and  hills,  boats  and  dogs,  shepherds  and  fisher- 
men, the  green  height  of  Fingal's  Hill,  the  water- 
fall roaring  in  the  dark  gorge,  had  lessons  as  full  of 
meaning  for  their  after-life  as  any  that  books  could 
impart.  The  boys  were  trained  from  childhood  to  be 
manly,  and  many  an  hour  taken  from  study  was  devoted 
to  education  of  another  kind — hunting  otters  or 
badgers  in  their  dens,  with  terriers  whose  qualities 
were  discussed  in  every  cottage  on  the  glebe ;  shoot- 
ing grouse,  and  stalking  the  wary  black-cock  (for 
no  game  laws  were  then  enforced  in  Morven) ;  fishing 
through  the  summer  nights ;  or  sailing  out  in  the 
'  Sound '  with  old  Rory,  the  boatman,  when  the  wind 
was  high,  and  the  Roe  had  to  struggle,  close-haukHl, 
against  the  cross-sea  and  angry  tide.  In  the  winter 
evenings  old  and  young  gathered  round  the  fireside, 
where  songs  and  laughter  mingled  with  graver  occu- 
pations, and  not  unfrequently  the  minister  would  tuuo 


PARENTAGE.  k 

liis  violin,  and,  striking  up  some  swinging  reel  or 
blythe  strathspey,  would  call  on  the  lads  to  lay  aside 
their  books,  and  the  girls  their  sewing,  and  set  them 
to  dance  with  a  will  to  his  own  hearty  music.  Family 
Avorship,  generally  conducted  in  Gaelic,  for  the  sake 
of  such  servants  as  laiew  little  Eugiish.  ended  the 
day. 

N'orman's  grandmother  was  one  of  the  tenderest  and 
wisest  of  ministers'  wives.  The  unconscious  centre 
of  the  every- day  life  of  the  household,  her  husband 
and  children  leaned  on  her  at  all  times,  but  especially 
in  times  of  sickness  or  sorrow  ;  for  if  there  were 
days  of  joy,  there  were  also  many  days,  not  the 
less  blessed,  of  great  sadness  too,  and  of  mournful 
partings,  when  one  young  form  after  another  had  to  be 
laid  in  the  old  churchyard. 

The  period  when  his  father*  was  a  boy  in  Morven 
was  remarkable  in  many  ways.  The  country  was 
closely  inhabited  by  an  intensely  Highland  people. 
The  hills  and  retired  glens,  where  now  are  spectral 
gables  of  roofless  houses,  or  green  mounds  concealing 
old  homesteads,  watched  by  some  ancient  tree  standing 
like  a  solitary  mourner  by  the  dead — were  then 
tenanted  by  a  happy  and  romantic  peasantry.  It  is 
impossible  now,  even  in  imagination,  to  re-people  the 
Highlands  with  those  who  then  gave  the  country  the 
savour  of  a  kindly  and  enthusiastic  clan-life — 

*'  The  flocks  of  the  stranger  the  long  glens  are  roamin', 
Where  a  thousand  bien  homesteads  smoked  bonny  at  gloamin' ; 
The  wee  crofts  run  wild  wi'  the  bracken  and  heather, 
And  the  gables  stand  ruinous,  bare  to  the  weather." 

*  The  late  Norman  Macleod,  D.D.,  Minister  of  St.  Columba, 
G  asTOW,  and  Dean  of  the  Chapel  Eoj'al. 


6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACI.FOD. 

Tlicre  were  many  men  then  alive  in  Morven  wlio  had 
been  out  with  '  bonny  Prince  Charlie,'  and  the  chivalry 
of  the  younger  generation  was  kept  aglow  by  the  great 
French  war  and  the  embodiment  of  the  'Argyll  Fen- 
ciblcs.'  Among  sncli  influences  as  these  Norman's 
father  grew  up  and  became  thoroughly  imbued  with 
their  spirit.  Full  of  geniality,  of  wit,  and  poetry — fir.^d 
with  a  passionate  love  of  his  country — wielding  her 
ancient  language  with  rare  fi'eshncss  and  eloquence — 
he  carried  into  the  work  of  that  sacred  ministry  to 
which  his  life  was  devoted  a  broad  and  healthy  human 
sympathy,  and  to  his  latest  day  seemed  to  breathe  the 
air  imbibed  in  his  youth  on  the  hills  of  Morven.* 

As  the  incidents  of  his  life  were  closely  intertwined 
with  those  of  his  son,  nothing  need  here  be  said  of 
his  public  career.  lie  was  a  remarkably  handsome 
man,  with  a  broad  forehead,  an  open  countenance 
full  of  benevolence,  and  hair  which,  from  an  early 
age,  was  snowy  Avhite.  His  voice  was  rich  and  of 
winning  sweetness,  and  when  addressing  a  public 
audience,  whether  speaking  to  his  own  flock  in  tlie 
name  of  Christ,  or  pleading  with  strangers  on  behalf 
of  his  beloved  Highlands,  few  could  resist  the  per- 
suasive tenderness  of  his  appeals.  He  was  in  many 
ways  the  prototype  of  Norman.  His  tact  and  common 
sense  were  as  remarkable  as  his  pathos  and  humour. 
He  left  the  discipline  of  the  children  almost  entirely 
to  their  mother.  She  was  theii*  wise  and  loving  in- 
structor at  home,  and  their  constant  correspondent  iu 
later  life ;  while  he  rejoiced  in  sharing  their  com- 
panionship, entering  into  their  fun,  and  obtaining  the 

*  Soo  Appendix  A. 


PARENTAGE.  7 

frankest  confidence  of  affection.  He  seldom  if  ever 
lectured  them  formally  on  religious  subjects,  but 
spread  around  bim  a  cheerful,  kindly,  and  truly  re- 
xigious  atmosphere,  which  they  unconsciously  imbibed. 
'  Were  I  asked  what  there  was  in  my  father's  teach- 
ing and  training  which  did  us  all  so  much  good,' 
Norman  wrote  at  the  time  of  his  father's  death,  '  1 
would  say,  both  in  regard  to  him  and  my  beloved 
mother, — that  it  was  love  and  truth.  They  were 
both  so  real  and  human ;  no  cranJcs,  ttvisis,  crotchets^ 
isms  or  systems  of  any  kind,  but  loving,  sympathising 
— giving  a  genuine  hlowing-iip  when  it  was  needed, 
but  passing  by  trifles,  failures,  infirmities,  without 
making  a  fuss.  The  liberty  they  gave  was  as  wise  as 
the  restraints  they  imposed.  Their  home  was  happy 
— intensely  happy.  Christianity  was  a  thing  taken 
for  granted,  not  forced  with  scowl  and  frown.  I 
never  heard  my  father  speak  of  Calvinism,  Arminian- 
ism,  Presbyter ianism  or  Episcopacy,  or  exaggerate 
doctrinal  differences  in  my  life.  I  had  to  study  all 
these  questions  after  I  left  home.  I  thank  God  for 
his  free,  loving,  sympathising  and  honest  heart.  He 
might  have  made  me  a  slave  to  any  '  ism.'  He  left 
me  free  to  love  Christ  and  Christians.' 

The  ancestor  of  Mr.  Maxwell,  Norman's  maternal 
grandfather,  was  a  refugee,  who,  in  the  time  of  the 
'  Troubles,'  under  Claverhouse,  had  fled  to  Kintyre. 
He  was,  according  to  tradition,  a  younger  son  of 
the  Maxwells  of  Newark,  and  once  lay  concealed  for 
several  weeks  in  the  woods  of  Saddell,  until,  being 
pursued,  he  escaped  to  tlu  south  end  of  the  penin- 
sula ;  again  discovered,  and  hotly  chased,  he  rushed 


8  LIFE  OF  XniUfAX  ^^.\CLFOD 

into  a  house  where  the  furmer  was  carding  wool. 
Immediately  apprehending-  the  cause  of  this  sudden 
intrusion,  the  man  quickly  gave  the  fugitive  his 
own  apron  and  the  '  cartls,'  so  that  Mhen  the 
soldiers  looked  into  the  kitchen,  they  passed  on 
without  suspecting  the  industrious  youth,  who  sat 
*  combing  the  fleece '  by  the  peat  hearth.  This 
young  Maxwell  settled  afterwards  in  the  neigh- 
bourhood, and  his  descendants  r(?moving  to  the  half- 
lowland  town  of  Campbeltown,  made  good  mar- 
riages and  prospered  in  the  world.  Mr.  Maxwell, 
of  Aros,  had  been  educated  as  a  hiAvyer,  and  became 
Slieriff  Substitute  of  his  native  district;  but  receiv- 
ing the  appointment  of  Chamberlain  to  the  Duke  of 
Argyll,  he  settled  in  Mull,  to  take  charge  of  the 
large  ducal  estates  in  that  island.  He  was  an  ex- 
cellent scholar,  and  full  of  kindly  humour.  If  the 
grandfather  at  Morven  valued  Gaelic  poetry,  no  less 
did  the  other  take  delight  in  the  ancient  Border 
ballads  of  the  Low  Country  and  in  the  songs  of 
Burns,  and  read  with  keen  interest  the  contemporary 
literature  of  an  age  which  culminated  in  Walter 
Scott.  He  drew  a  marked  distinction  between  'office 
hoiu's'  and  the  time  for  amusement.  Strict  and 
punctual  in  his  own  habits,  he  attended  carefully  to 
the  work  of  the  tutor,  and  the  studies  of  his  family ; 
but,  when  lessons  were  over,  he  entered  with  a  young 
heart  into  their  enjoyments.  In  summer  the  house 
was  continually  filled  with  guests — travellers  on  their 
Avay  to  Staffa,  with  letters  of  introduction  from  the 
South,  and  remaining  sometimes  for  days  beneath  the 
hosjiitable  roof.     Many  of  these  were  persons  whose 


PARENTAGE.  9 

names  are  famous,  such  as  Sheridan,  Peel,  and  Sir 
"Walter  Scott.  Such  society  added  greatly  to  the 
brightness  of  the  household,  and  shed  a  beneficial 
influence  over  the  after-life  of  the  children. 

Agnes  Maxwell,  Norman's  motlier,  was  brought  up 
with  her  uncle  and  aunt  MacNeil  at  Drumdrissaig,  on 
the  western  coast  of  Knapdale,  until  she  was  twelve 
3'ears  of  age.  She  there  passed  her  early  youth, 
surrounded  by  old  but  wise  and  sympathetic  people ; 
and,  being  left  much  to  the  companionship  of  natui-e, 
wandering  by  herself  along  the  glorious  shore  which 
looks  across  to  islands  washed  by  the  Atlantic  surf, 
her  mind,  naturally  receptive  of  poetic  impressions, 
awoke  to  the  sense  of  the  beautiful  in  outward  things. 
She  not  only  grew  up  a  deeply  affectionate  girl,  but 
she  also  learned  to  feel  and  think  for  herself.  Her 
own  words  give  a  vivid  picture  of  the  healthy  training 
of  her  childhood  : — 

"  My  aunt  Mary  was  a  woman  of  strong  sense  and 
judgment,  very  accomplished  and  cheerful,  and  while 
most  exacting  as  to  obedience  and  good  conduct,  was 
exceedingly  loving  to  me  while  I  was  with  her.  She  gave 
me  all  my  instruction,  religious  and  secular ;  and  used  in 
the  evenings  to  take  her  guitar  and  hum  over  to  me  old 
Scotch  songs  and  ballads,  till  I  not  only  picked  up  a  great 
number,  but  acquired  a  taste  for  them  which  I  have  never 
lost.  From  the  windows  there  was  a  charming  view  of  the 
hills  of  Jura  and  of  the  sea,  and  I  still  recall  the  delight 
with  which  I  used  to  watch  the  splendid  sunsets  over  the 
distant  point  of  Islay.  I  never  knew  what  it  was  to  miss 
a  companion  ;  for  it  is  extraordinary  what  a  variety  of 
amusements  and  manifold  resources  children  find  out  for 
themselves.  I  fear  that  some  of  the  fine  young  ladies  of 
the  present  day,  attended  by  their  nursery-maids,  would 
have  thought  me  a  demi-savage  had  they  seen  me  helping 


.o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  AfACLFOD. 

the  (liiiiynmid  to  Lring  in  the  cows,  or  standing  in  a  hnrn 
fishing  for  eels  nndor  tlie  stones,  climhing  rocks,  or  run- 
ning a  niatleai)  race  against  the  wind.  Our  next  neighbour 
was  a  C.iptain  Maclachan,  wlio  had  a  flock  of  goats,  and  of 
all  delightful  thin<rs  the  best  was  to  be  allowed  to  go  with 
Jcanie,  the  goat-lassie,  to  call  them  from  the  hilis,  and 
see  them  milked." 

Her  picture  of  the  habits  of  the  people  at  that  time 
is  curious  and  interesting  : — 

"  There  was  none  of  the  corecuony  and  formality  among 
neighbours  that  exist  now  ;  visitors  came  v/ithout  any 
previous  notice,  nor  did  their  arrival  make  much  altera- 
tion in  the  arrangements  of  the  house.  Neither  Christ- 
mas  nor  New- Year's  Day  was  allowed  to  pass  without  due 
observance.  Invitations  were  issued  to  all  the  neighbour- 
ing fiimilies  ;  old  John  Shaw  the  '  Fiddler  '  Avas  summoned 
from  Castle  Sweyn  to  assist  at  the  festivities  ;  and  I 
remember  the  amusement  I  had  at  seeing  my  old  uncle, 
who  did  not  in  the  least  care  for  dancing,  toiling  with  all 
his  might  at  reels  and  country  dances,  until  the  ball  was 
ended  by  the  'Country  Lumpkin.'  On  Twelfth-Day  a 
great  '  shinty  '  match  was  held  on  one  of  the  fields,  when 
perhaps  two  hundred  hearty  young  and  middle-aged  men 
assembled  to  the  music  of  the  bagpipes,  and  played  the 
match  of  the  year  with  a  fury  Avhich  only  the  presence  of 
the  '  laird '  prevented  sometimes  from  passing  into  more 
serious  coml)at.  The  '  shinty  '  was  alwaj'-s  followed  by  a 
servants'  ball,  Avhen  it  was  not  uncommon  for  the  country 
lasses  to  dress  in  coloured  petticoats,  green  being  the 
favourite  hue,  and  in  a  nice  white  calico  '  bed-gown,'  con- 
fined at  the  waist.  Their  hair,  falling  over  their  shoul- 
ders, was  held  back  by  a  long  comb,  which  was  usually 
the  gift  of  a  yoimg  man  to  his  sweetheart.  I  never 
understood  that  there  was  intoxication  at  these  festivities, 
for,  indeed,  the  people  of  the  district  Avere  very  regular  in 
their  habits,  so  that  I  cannot  recollect  more  than  two 
persons  noted  for  being  addicted  to  excess.  There  Avas 
only  one  Avoman  in  the  neighbourhood  Avho  took   tea,  and 


PARENTAGE.  ii 

the  fact  being  considered  a  piece  of  disgraceful  extrava- 
gance, was  whispered  about  with  much  more  sense  of  shame 
than  would  now  be  caused  by  the  drinking  of  whisky. 
The  parish  clergyman  was  a  frail  old  man,  who  preached 
very  seldom,  and,  when  doing  so,  wore  a  white  cotton 
night-cap.  I  remember  his  once  putting  his  hand  on  my 
head  and  blessing  me,  as  he  came  down  from  the  pulpit. 
There  was  not  a  seat  in  the  whole  church  except  the 
family  pews  of  the  heritors  and  minister.  Some  of  the 
people  supported  themselves  on  the  communion  table, 
which  ran  from  end  to  end  of  the  building,  Avhile  others 
brought  in  a  stone  or  a  turf,  on  which  they  ensconced 
themselves.  And  yet,  in  spite  of  this  extraordinary 
absence  of  religious  instruction  and  of  pastoral  superin- 
tendence, the  people  were  moral  and  sober. 

"  I  well  recollect  my  aunt  weeping  bitterly  as  she  read 
aloud  to  us  the  account  of  the  execution  of  Louis  XVI., 
while  I  sat  on  a  stool  at  her  feet  and  had  it  explained  to  me. 
Then  came  the  raising  of  the  volunteers,  the  playing  of  pipes 
in  the  remotest  glen,  and  the  drilling  of  recruits  in  the  per- 
^)etual  '  goose-step.'  My  uncle  was  made  a  captain,  and,  to 
my  intense  amusement,  I  managed  regularly  to  hide  myself 
in  the  barn  to  watch  the  old  gentleman  being  put  through 
his  exercises  by  the  sergeant.  A  fit  of  uncontrollable 
laughter  at  last  betrayed  my  lurking-place." 

When  she  returned  to  Arcs,  after  the  usual  '  finish- 
ing' of  an  Edinburgh  school,  her  home  became  doubly 
s\Yeet  to  her  by  the  merriment  of  a  household  of 
brothers  and  sisters,  the  tenderness  of  a  mother  who 
loved  every  living  thing,  and,  above  all,  by  the  com- 
panionship of  her  father,  who  delighted  in  her  sweet 
rendering  of  his  favourite  Scotch  music,  and  shared 
with  her  all  his  own  stores  of  old  romance.  All  this 
tended  to  form  that  character  which,  ripening  into 
purest  Christian  life,  has  been  as  a  living  gospel  to 
her  children  and  her  children's  children. 


12 


LIFE  OF  NORM  AN  MACLEOD. 


I  liavc  dwelt  llius  at  length  on  the  early  days  of 
these  25ureiits,  not  merely  from  tlie  natural  desire  to 
S2)eak  of  those  we  love,  but  because  almost  every  page 
of  this  memoir,  down  to  its  latest,  will  bear  witness  to 
how  much  Korniau  owed  to  that  father  and  mother. 


VIEW    OF    AKOS. 


.    CHAPTEE  11. 

BOYHOOD. 

NOEMAN  was  born  at  Campbeltown  on  June  3, 
1812.  His  father  had  been  ordained  four  years 
previously  to  the  pastoral  charge  of  that  large  parish, 
and  had  been  married  to  Agnes  Maxwell  in  1811. 

Campbeltown  lies  at  the  head  of  a  loch  which  runs 
for  two  miles  into  the  long  promontory  of  Kintyre, 
and  not  far  from  its  southern  termination.  The  loch 
forms  a  splendid  harbour.  The  high  island  of  Davar, 
thrown  out  like  a  sentinel  from  the  hills,  and  con- 
nected with  the  shore  on  one  side  by  a  natural  mole 
of  gravel,  protects  it  from  every  Avind ;  while,  from 
its  position  near  the  stormy  Mull,  whose  precipices 
breast  the  full  swiug  of  the  Atlantic,  it  affords  a 
secure  haven  to  ships  that  have  rounded  that  dreaded 
headland.  The  external  aspect  of  the  town  is 
very  much  like  that  of  any  other  Scotch  seaport— a 
central  cluster  of  streets,  with  one  or  two  plain 
churches  lifting  their  square  shoulders  above  the 
other  houses  ;  a  quay  ;  a  lean  steeple ;  the  chim- 
neys of  some  distilleries;  thinner  rows  of  white- 
washed houses  stretching  round  the  'Lochend,'  and 
breaking   up    into   detached  villas   buried  in  woods 


14  J.TFE  OF  NOR^rAN  MACLEOD. 

and  shrubberies.  The  bay  of  Campbeltown  is,  how- 
ever, both  picturesque  and  lively.  Cultured  fields 
clothe  the  slopes  of  hills,  whose  tops  are  purple  with 
heather,  and  beyond  which  ranges  of  higher  moun- 
tains lift  their  rough  heads.  There  are  fine  glimpses, 
too,  of  coast  scenery,  especially  to  the  south,  where 
the  headlands  of  Kilkerran  fall  steeply  into  the  sea. 
But  the  bay  forms  the  true  scene  of  interest,  as  it  is  the 
rendezvous  of  hundreds  of  fishing-smacks  and  wher- 
ries. There  is  continual  movement  on  its  waters — 
the  flapping  and  filling  of  the  brown  sails,  the  shouts 
of  the  men,  and  the  '  whirr '  of  the  chain-cable  as 
an  anchor  is  dropped,  keep  the  port  constantly  astir. 
Larger  vessels  are  also  perpetually  coming  and  going 
— storm-stayed  merchant  ships,  smaller  craft  engaged 
in  coast  traffic,  graceful  yachts,  and  Eevenue 
cruisers.  Four  or  five  miles  off,  on  the  western 
side  of  the  low  isthmus  M'hich  crosses  Kintyre  from 
the  head  of  Campbeltown  loch,  lies  another  bay, 
in  marked  contrast  to  this  sheltered  harbour. 
There  the  long  crescent  of  Machrilianish,  girdled 
by  sands  w^ind-tossed  into  fantastic  hillocks,  re- 
ceives the  full  Aveight  of  the  Atlantic.  Woe  to  the 
luckless  vessel  caught  within  those  relentless  jaws  ! 
Even  in  calm  there  is  a  weird  suggestiveness  in  the 
ceaseless  moaning  of  that  surf,  like  the  breathing  of  a 
wild  beast,  and  in  that  line  of  tawny  yellow  rimmed 
by  creaming  foam,  and  broken  with  the  black  ribs  of 
some  old  wreck  sticking  up  here  and  there  from  the 
shallows.  Eut  during  storm,  earth,  sea,  and  sky  are 
mingled  in  a  driAing  cloud  of  salt  spin-di-ift  and 
sand,  and  the  prolonged  roar  of  the  surge  is  carried 


BOYHOOD.  '5 

far  inland.  When  the  noise  of  '  the  bay '  is  heard 
by  the  comfortable  burgesses,  booming  over  their 
town  like  a  distant  cannonade,  they  are  reminded 
how  wild  the  night  is  far  out  on  the  ocean.  To 
be  '  roaring  like  the  bay  '  is  their  strongest  description 
of  a  bawling  child  or  a  shouting  scjld. 

As  the  Highlands  gave  Norman  his  strong  Celtic 
passion,  so  Campbeltown  inspired  him  with  sym- 
pathy for  the  sea  and  sailors,  besides  creating  a 
world  of  associations  Avliich  never  left  him.  It  was 
a  curious  little  town,  and  had  a  Avonderful  variety  of 
character  in  its  society  and  customs.  No  fewer  than 
seven  large  Ee venue  cruisers  had  their  headquarters 
at  Campbeltown,  and  were  commanded  by  naval 
officers  who,  in  the  good  old  days,  received  a  pay 
which  would  startle  modern  economists.  These  cut- 
ters were  powerful  vessels,  generally  manned  by  a 
double  crew,  and  each  having  a  smaller  craft  acting 
as  tender.  Nor  were  they  without  occupation,  for 
smu""gling  was  then  a  trade  made  not  a  little  profitable 
by  the  high  duties  imposed  on  salt,  spirits,  and  tea.* 

The  officers  and  men  of  the  cutters  made  Campbel- 
town their  home,  and  villas,  generally  built  opposite 
the  buoy  which  marked  the  anchorage  of  their  respec- 
tive cruisers,  were  occupied  by  the  families  of  the  dif- 
ferent commanders.    The  element  thus  introduced  into 

♦  Many  stories  are  told  of  these  smuggling  clays.  Once  an  old 
■woman,  whose  '  habit  and  repute '  were  notorious,  was  being  tried  by 
the  Sheriff.  When  the  charge  had  been  fairly  proved,  and  it  fell  to 
the  good  lawyer  to  pronounce  sentence,  an  unusual  admixture  of 
mercy  with  fidgetiness  seemed  to  possess  him,  for,  evading  the  manifest 
conclusion,  he  thus  addressed  the  prisoner—'  I  daresay,  my  poor 
woman,  it's  not  very  often  you  have  fallen  into  this  fault.' — '  J3ecd  no, 
8hirra,'  she  readily  replied,  '  I  haeua  made  a  drap  since  yon  wee  keg  I 
sent  yourael.' 


1 6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

the  society  of  the  town  had  many  important  effects. 
It  not  only  ^avc  clicerfiilness  to  its  tone,  but  added  a 
certain  savour  of  the  sea  to  its  interests.  The  merits 
of  each  cutter  and  officer  were  matters  with  which 
every  man  and  woman — but  more  especially  every 
schoolboy — was  familiar,  and  how  old  Jack  Ful- 
larton  had  '  carried  on '  till  all  seemed  going  by  the 
board,  on  a  coast  brisiling  with  sunken  rocks ;  or  how 
Ca})tain  lieatson  had  been  caught  off  the  j\Iull  in  the 
great  January  gale,  and  with  what  skill  he  had 
weathered  the  wild  headland — were  questions  which 
every  inhabitant,  old  and  young,  had  repeatedly  dis- 
cussed. 

Cam;"beltown  was  the  headquarters  of  other  sorts 
and  conditions  both  of  men  and  women.  There 
were  retired  half-pay  officers  of  both  the  services ; 
officers  of  his  Majesty's  Excise  appointed  to  watch  the 
distilleries,  among  whom  were  such  magnates  as  the 
collector  and  supervisor ;  there  was  the  old  sheriff  with 
his  queue  and  top-boots ;  the  duke's  chamberlain, 
and  the  usual  proportion  of  doctors,  writers,  and 
banli:ers.  There  were,  moreover,  those  without  whom 
all  the  teas,  and  suppers,  and  society  of  the  town  would 
have  been  flavourless — the  elderly  maiden  ladies,  who 
found  that  their  '  annuities '  could  not  be  spent  in  a 
cheerier  or  more  congenial  spot  than  this  kindly  sea- 
port. These  ladies  were  aunts  or  cousins  to  half  the 
lairds  in  Argyllshire,  and  were  often  great  characters. 
A  society  like  this,  tlirown  together  in  a  town  utterly 
unconnected  with  the  rest  of  the  Avorld  except  by  a 
mail-gig,  which  had  to  travel  some  sixty  miles  before 
reaching  any  settlement  larger  than  a  '  clachan,'  and 


BOYHOOD.  17 

by  a  sailing  packet,  whose  weekly  departure  was  an- 
nounced by  the  bellman  in  the  following  manner, 
'  All  ye  who  may  desire  a  passage,  know  that   the 

Caledonia   cutter  will    sail    ;'   was    sure    to    be 

sclf-su2:»porting  in  all  the  necessaries  of  life,  among 
which  the  '  half-pays '  and  maiden  ladies  included 
amusements.  So-called  tea-parties,  followed  by  com- 
fortable suppers,  were  the  common  forms  of  enter- 
tainment ;  and  these  reunions  being  enlivened  by 
backgammon  and  whist  for  the  older  folks,  and  a 
dance  for  the  younger,  were  not  without  their  inno-. 
cent  excitements.  Sometimes  there  was  also  such  a 
supreme  event  as  a  county  or  a  militia  ball ;  or  still 
better,  when  some  sloop-of-war  ran  in  to  refit,  the 
resources  of  the  hospitable  town  were  cheerfully 
expended  in  giving  a  grand  picnic  to  the  officers, 
followed  by  the  unfailing  dance  and  supper  in  the 
evening. 

The  ecclesiastical  relationships  of  the  place  were 
not  less  primitive  and  genial  than  the  social.  When 
Norman's  father  went  there,  he  soon  attracted  a  very 
large  and  devoted  congregation.  He  was  decidedly 
'evangelical,'  but  free  from  all  narrowness,  and  had  a 
word  of  cheerful  kindliness  for  all.  All  sects  and 
parties  loved  him,  and  his  fellow  townsmen  were 
the  more  disposed  to  listen  to  his  earnest  appeals 
in  public  and  private,  when  they  knew  how  manly 
and  simple  he  was  in  daily  life.  Not  only  did  he 
in  this  way  secure  the  attachment  of  his  own  flock, 
but,  when  on  one  occasion  he  was  asked  to  accept 
another  and  a  better  living,  the  dissenting  congrega- 
tion of  the   place  heartily  joined  with   his   own  in 

VOL.  I.  c 


1 8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

making  up  his  very  small  stipend  to  a  sum  equal  to 
wluit  had  been  offered  to  him.  The  Roman  Catholic 
priest  was  among  his  friends.  Few  weeks  evei 
passed  without  old  Mr.  Cattanach  coming  to  take 
tea  at  the  Manse,  and  in  all  his  little  difficulties  he 
looked  to  the  young  parish  minister  for  advice.  These 
Iligliland  priests  were  very  different  men  from  those 
now  furnished  by  Maynooth.  They  were  usually 
educated  in  France,  and  imbibing  Gallican  rather  than 
Ultramontane  ideas,  felt  themselves  to  be  Britons,  not 
aliens,  and  identified  themselves  with  the  interests 
of  the  people  around  them.  Nor  was  the  fi*iendly 
relationship  which  existed  in  Campbeltown  an  ex- 
ceptional instance  of  good-feeling ;  for  whenever  the 
priest  of  the  district  went  to  that  part  of  the  parish 
in  Morven  which  was  near  the  Manse,  he  made  it  his 
home,  and  I  am  not  aware  that  any  evil  ever  accrued 
tr  religion  in  consequence. 

The  house  where  Norman  Macleod  was  born  was  in 
the  Kirk  Street,  but  the  family  afterwards  lived  in 
the  old  ]\Ianse,  and  finally  in  Southpark.  He  seems 
from  childhood  to  have  had  many  of  the  character- 
istics which  distinguished  him  through  life — being 
affectionate,  bright,  humourous,  and  talkative.  His 
mother,  and  that  aunt  who  was  the  friend  of  his 
earliest  as  well  as  of  his  latest  years,  remember  many 
incidents  illustrative  of  his  extreme  lovingness  and 
ceaseless  merriment.  Another,  of  his  own  age,  re- 
lates, as  one  of  her  earliest  memories,  how  she  used 
to  sit  among  the  group  of  children  round  the  nursery 
fire,  listening  to  the  stories  and  talk  of  this  one  child 
*  whose  tongue   never   lay.'     When   a   bey    he   was 


BOYHOOD.  19 

sent  to  the  Burgh  school,  where  all  the  families 
of  the  j)la;Ce,  high  and  low,  met  and  mingled  ;  and 
where,  if  he  did  not  receive  that  thorough  classical 
grounding — the  want  of  which  he  used  always  to 
lament,  justly  blaming  the  harsh  and  inefficient  master 
who  had  failed  to  impart  it — he  gained  an  in- 
sight into  character  which  served  not  only  to  give 
him  sympathy  with  all  ranks  of  life,  but  afforded  a 
fund  of  amusing  memories  which  never  lost  their 
freshness.  Several  of  his  boyish  companions  re- 
mained his  familiar  friends  in  after-life,  and  not  a 
few  of  them  are  portrayed  in  his  '  Old  Lieutenant.' 
Among  the  numerous  souvenirs  he  used  to  keep,  and 
which  were  found  after  his  death  in  his  'Sanctum' 
in  Glasgow,  were  little  books  and  other  trifles  he  had 
got  when  a  boy  from  these  early  associates.  Ships 
and  sailors  were  the  great  objects  of  his  interest, 
and,  contrary  to  the  wishes  of  his  anxious  mother, 
many  a  happy  hour  was  spent  on  board  the  vessels 
which  lay  at  the  pier — climbing  the  shrouds,  reaching 
the  cross-trees  without  passing  through  the  lubbers 
hole,  or  in  making  himself  acquainted  with  every 
stay,  halyard,  and  spar  from  truck  to  keelson. 
His  boy  companions  were  hardy  fellows,  fond  of 
adventure,  and  so  thoroughly  left  to  form  their  OAvn 
acquaintances  that  there  was  not  a  character  in  the 
place — fool  or  fiddler,  soldier  or  sailor — whose  pecu- 
liarities or  stories  they  had  not  learned.  Norman, 
even  as  a  boy,  seems  thoroughly  to  have  appreciated 
this  many-sided  life.  The  maiden  ladies  and  the 
'  half-pays,'  the  picnics  and  supper  parties,  the  rough 
sports  of  the   schoolyard,   or  the   glorious  Saturday 


20  LIjE  of  A'ORAfAN  MACLEOD. 

expeditions  by  the  shore  and  headlands,  were  keenly 
enjoyed  by  him.  lie  quickly  caught  up  the  spirit 
of  all  outward  things  in  nature  or  character,  and 
his  power  of  mimicry  and  sense  of  the  ludicrous 
were  even  then  as  marked  as  his  affcctionateness. 
Once,  Avhen  he  was  unwell  and  about  six  years 
old,  it  became  necessary  to  apply  leeches.  These 
he  named  after  various  characters  in  the  town — 
the  sheriff,  the  provost,  &c. ;  and  while  they  were 
on  his  chest  he  kept  up  an  unceasing  dialogue  with 
them,  scolding  one  or  praising  the  other,  as  each  did 
its  curative  work  well  or  ill,  and*  all  in  the  exact  voice 
and  manner  of  the  various  persons  they  were  meant 
to  represent.  When  Mackay  the  actor,  afterwards  so 
famous  for  his  personification  of  Bailie  Ts'icol  Jarvie, 
returned  to  Campbeltown — where  he  had  once  been  a 
drummer-boy — to  astonish  its  inhabitants  by  the  per- 
formances of  a  clever  little  company  in  an  improvised 
theatre,  it  was  like  the  ojDcning  up  of  a  new  world 
to  Norman.  An  attic  was  fitted  up,  and  an  audience 
of  aunts  and  cousins  invited  to  witness  how  well 
he  and  his  companions  could  '  do  Mackay' s  company.' 
He  had  from  the  first  a  strong  tendency  to  throw  a 
romantic  colouring  into  common  life,  and  such  a  desire 
to  have  sway  over  others  that  he  was  never  so 
much  himself  as  when  he  had  some  one  to  influence, 
and  with  whom  he  might  share  the  ceaseless  flow  of 
his  own  ideas  and  imaginations.  Schoolboy  expedi- 
tions became  under  him  fanciful  and  heroic  enter- 
prises, in  which  some  ideal  part  was  assigned  by  him 
to  each  of  his  companions.  A  sail  to  some  creek  a 
mile  away  became  a  voyage  of  discovery  or  a  chase 


BOYHOOD.  21 

after  pirates.     A  ramble  over  the  hills  took  the  sha[)e 
of  an  expedition  against  the  French. 

The  great  event  of  his  boyhood  was  his  beiiig 
sent  to  Morven.  He  had  been  frequently  thei-e 
as  a  young  child,  but  his  father,  anxious  that  his 
son  should  know  Gaelic,  and,  if  possible,  be  a  Higli- 
land  minister,  determined  to  board  him  with  old 
Mr.  Cameron,  the  parish  schoolmaster  in  Morven, 
and  so,  when  about  twelve  years  of  age,  he  was 
sent  first  to  the  Manse,  and  then  to  the  school- 
master's house.  His  grandfather  had  died  a  few 
months  before,  but  he  had  many  menlories  of  the  okl 
man  derived  from  previous  visits,  and  the  impressions 
of  the  venerable  minister,  then  in  extreme  age,  were 
never  lost.  He  was,  for  example,  in  church  on  that 
Communion  Sunday  when  his  grandfather,  blind  with 
age,  was  led  by  the  hand  up  to  the  communion-table 
by  his  servant  '  Rory,'  to  address  his  people  for  the 
last  time.  This  grandfather  had  been  minister  there 
for  fifty  years,  and  the  faithful  servant  who  now  took 
his  hand  liad  been  with  him  since  he  had  entered  the 
Manse.  It  was  then  that  touching  episode  occurred 
described  in  the  '  Highland  Parish,'  when  the  old  man 
having  in  his  blindness  turned  himself  the  Avrong 
way,  '  Eory,'  perceiving  the  mistake,  went  back  and 
gently  placed  him  with  his  face  to  the  congregation. 
This  picture  of  the  aged  pastor,  with  snowy  hair 
falling  on  his  shoulders,  bidding  solemn  farewell 
to  a  flock  that,  with  the  loyalty  of  the  High- 
land race,  regarded  him  as  a  father,  was  a  scene 
which  deeply  touched  the  imagination  of  the  child 
in  the  Manse  seat.      One,  who  was  herself  present, 


22  LIFE  OF  NORMA.Y  MACLEOD. 

remembers  another  occiision  when  his  grandfather, 
taking  him  on  his  knee,  presented  liiiu  a\  itli  a  li:iir- 
crown — an  enormous  sum  in  the  eyes  of  the  cliikl — 
and  then  gave  him  his  blessing.  Isorman,  dra,i;giiii< 
himself  off,  rushed  away  to  the  window-curtain,  in 
which  he  tightly  rolled  himself;  when  disentangled, 
his  cheeks  were  suffused  with  tears.  The  goodness  of 
the  old  man  had  proved  too  much  for  his  generous 
nature. 

With  these  and  many  other  loving  recollections  he 
now  returned,  as  a  boy  of  twelve,  to  be  made  a  'true 
Highlander'  of,  as  his  father  called  it.  It  was 
indeed  as  the  opening  of  a  new  life  when,  leaving 
the  little  comity  town,  and  the  grammar-school,  and 
the  lowland  playmates  in  Campbeltown,  he  landed 
on  the  rocky  shore  below  the  Manse  of  Morven.  The 
very  air  was  different.  The  puffs  of  peat-reek  from 
the  cottages  were  to  him  redolent  of  Hii^hland  warmth 
and  romantic  childish  associations.  T  lore  was  not  a 
boatman  from  old  '  Rory '  down  to  the  betarred 
fisher-boy,  not  a  shepherd,  or  herd,  or  cottar,  not  a 
dairymaid  or  henwife,  but  gave  him  a  welcome,  and 
tried  to  make  his  life  happier.  The  Manse,  full  of 
kind  aunts  and  uncles,  seemed  to  him  a  paradise 
which  the  demon  of  selfishness  had  never  entered. 
And  then  there  was  the  wakening  sense  of  the  grand 
in  scenery,  nourished  almost  unconsciously  by  the 
presence  of  those  silent  mountains,  with  their  endless 
ridges  of  brown  heather ;  or  by  the  dark  glen  rcniring 
with  cataracts  that  fell  into  fairy  pools,  fringed  with 
plumage  of  ferns,  and  screened  by  netted  roof  of  hazel 
and  oak ;  or  by  many  an  hour  spent  upon  the  shore- 


BOYHOOD.  23 

land,  witli  its  infinite  variety  of  breaking  snrge  and 
rocky  bays,  ricli  in  seaweeds  and  darting  fish.  J'nt, 
above  all,  there  was  tlie  elastic  joy  of  an  open-air 
life,  with  the  excitement  of  fishing  and  boating,  and 
such  stirring  events  a^  sheep-shearing  or  a  '  harvest- 
home,'  with  the  fun  of  a  hearty  house,  whose  laughter 
was  kept  ever  alive  by  such  wits  as  Galium,  the  fool, 
or  bare-footed  Lachlan. 

His  life  in  the  dwelling  of  Samuel  Cameron,  the 
worthy  schoolmaster  and  cateehist  of  the  parish,  was 
not  less  full  of  romance.  The  house  was  not  a  kirge 
one — a  thatched  cottage  with  a  6m^  amul  a  hen,  and  a 
little  room  between,  formed  the  accommodation ;  but 
every  evening,  except  when  the  boys  were  fishing 
codling  from  the  rocks,  or  playing  '  shinty  '  in  the 
autumn  twilight,  there  gathered  round  the  hearth, 
heaped  high  with  glowing  peat,  a  happy  group,  who, 
with  Gaelic  songs  and  stories,  and  tunes  played  on  tlie 
sweet  '  trump '  or  Jew's  harp,  made  the  little  kitchen 
bright  as  a  drawing-room ;  for  there  was  a  culture  in 
the  very  peasantry  of  the  Highlands,  not  to  say  in  the 
house  of  such  a  schoolmaster  as  good  Mr.  Cameron, 
such  as  few  countries  could  boast  of.  There  was  an 
innate  high  breeding,  and  a  store  of  tradition  and 
poetry,  of  song  and  anecdote,  which  gave  a  peculiar 
flavour  to  their  common  life ;  so  that  the  long  evenings 
in  this  snug  cottage,  when  the  spinning-wheel  was 
humming,  the  women  teazing  and  carding  wool,  the 
boys  dressing  flies  or  shaping  boats,  were  also  enlivened 
by  wondrous  stories  of  old  times,  or  by  'lilts'  full  of 
a  weird  and  plaintive  beauty,  like  the  wild  note  of  a 
sea-bird,    or    by    a    '  Port-a-Eeal,'    or    '  a    Walking 


24  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Song,'  to  the  tune  of  which  all  joined  hands  as  they 
sent  the  merry  chorus  round.  Norman  had  here  an 
insight  into  the  best  side  of  the  Highland  character, 
and  into  many  Highland  customs  now  long  passed 
away.  Every  week  he  used  to  go  to  the  Manse  from 
Friday  till  Monday,  and  then  came  such  grand  expedi- 
tions as  a  walk  to  the  summit  of  Ben  Sliian,  with  its 
unrivalled  view  of  mountain  and  loch ;  or,  still  better, 
when  Avhole  nights  were  spent  fishing  at  the  rocky 
islands  in  the  Sound. 

"  Oh,  the  excitement  of  getting  among  a  great  play  of 
risli,  which  made  the  water  foam  for  half-a-mile  round, 
and  attracted  tlocivs  of  screaming  birds,  which  seemed  mad 
with  gluttony,  and  while  six  or  seven  rods  had  all  their 
lines  tight,  and  their  ends  bent  to  cracking  Avith  the  sport. 
And  then  the  fun  and  frolic  when  we  landed  for  the  night 
on  the  lee  of  the  island,  and  the  '  sky-larking,'  as  sailors 
call  it,  began  among  the  rocks,  pelting  one  another  with 
clods  or  wreck,  till,  wearied  out,  we  all  lay  down  to  sleep 
in  some  sheltered  nook,  and  all  was  silent  but  the  beating 
waves,  the  eerie  cry  of  sea-birds,  and  the  splash  of  some 
sea-monster  in  pursuit  of  its  prey.  What  glorious  remi- 
niscences have  I,  too,  of  those  scenes,  and  especially  of 
early  morn  as  watched  from  these  green  islands  !  It  seems 
to  me  as  if  I  had  never  beheld  a  true  sunrise  since  ;  yet 
how  many  have  I  witnessed  !  I  left  the  sleeping  crews, 
and  ascended  the  top  of  the  rock  immediately  before  day- 
l)rt>ak,  and  what  a  sight  it  was  to  behold  the  golden  crowns 
which  the  sun  placed  on  the  brows  of  the  mountain 
monarchs  who  first  did  him  homage,  what  heavenly 
dawiiings  of  lit,dit  on  peak  and  'scaur'  contrasted  with  the 
darkness  of  the  lower  valleys  !  What  gems  of  glory  in 
^•he  eastern  sky,  changing  the  cold  grey  clouds  of  early 
morning  into  bars  of  gold  and  radiant  gems  of  beauty! 
and  what  a  flood  of  light  suddenly  burst  upon  the  dancing 
waves  as  the  sun  rose  above  the  horizon,  and  revealed  the 
silent  sails  of  passing  ships  !  and  what  a  delight  to  hear 


BOYHOOD. 


25 


and  see  tlie  first  break  of  the  fisli  upon  the  waters  !  With 
what  pleasure  I  descended  and  gave  the  cheer  wliich  made 
all  the  sleepers  awake  and  scramble  to  the  boats,  and,  in 
a  few  minutes,  resume  the  work  of  hauling  in  our  dozens. 
Then  home  with  a  will  for  breakfast,  each  striving  to  be 
first  on  the  sandy  shore."  '"' 

This  was  good  education  for  the  affections,  sym- 
pathies, and  imagination.  (3ther  influences  of  a  very 
different  natiu'e  might  afterwards  be  experienced,  but 


VIEW  FROM   THE   HILL   BEHIND   FIUNARY. 

the  foundation  of  his  character  was  laid  in  the  boy- 
hood spent  in  Campbeltown,  Mull,  and  Morven.  Its 
associations  never  left  him,  and  the  memory  of  those 
hom-s,  whose  sunshine  of  love  had  brightened  his  early 
life,  made  him  in  no  small  measure  the  loving,  genial 
man  he  always  was.  What  he  had  found  so  full  of 
good  for  himself,   he  afterwards  tried  to  bestow  on 

"  "  Highland  Parish." 


26  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

others ;  and  not  only  in  his  dealing  -with  his  own  chil- 
dren, but  in  the  tone  of  his  teaching  and  in  the 
ministry  of  his  public  life,  can  easily  be  traced  the 
power  of  his  first  sympathies  : — 

"  Oh,  sunshine  of  youth,  let  it  shine  on  !  Let  love 
flow  out  fresh  and  full,  unchecked  by  any  rule  but  what 
love  creates,  and  pour  itself  down  without  stint  into  the 
young  heart.  Make  the  days  of  boyhood  happy  ;  for  other 
days  of  labour  and  sorrow  must  come,  when  the  blessing 
of  those  dear  eyes  and  clasping  hands  and  sweet  caress- 
ings,  will,  next  to  the  love  of  God  from  whom  they  flow, 
save  the  man  from  losing  faith  in  the  human  heart,  help 
to  deliver  him  from  the  curse  of  selfishness,  and  be  an 
Eden  in  the  memory  when  he  is  driven  lurth  into  the 
wilderness  of  life."  ""' 

*  "  Hi-'hland  Parish." 


CHAPTEE  III. 

EARLY    COLLEGE    DATS. 

IN"  tlie  year  1825  his  father  was  translated  from 
Campbeltown  to  the  parish  of  Campsie,  in  Stir- 
lingshire, where  he  remained  till  1835.  The  change 
was,  in  many  respects,  great  from  Campbeltown  and 
the  Highlands  to  a  half-agricultural,  half-manufac- 
turing Lowland  district,  in  which  the  extremes  of 
political  feeling  between  stiffest  Toryism  and  hottest 
Radicalism  were  running  high.  The  parish  was 
large  and  thickly  peopled,  and  its  natural  features 
were  in  a  manner  symbolical  of  its  social  charac- 
teristics. The  long  line  of  the  Fell,  its  green  sides 
dotted  witli  old  thorns,  rises  into  mountain  solitude, 
fi'om  a  valley  whose  wooded  haughs  are  blurred 
with  the  smoke  of  manufacturing  villages.  The  con- 
trast is  sharply  presented.  Sheep-walks,  lonely  as 
the  Cheviots,  look  down  on  unsightly  mounds  of 
chemical  refuse,  and  on  clusters  of  smoking  chimneys; 
and  streams  which  a  mile  away  are  clear  as  morning, 
are  dyed  black  as  ink  before  they  have  escaped  from 
print-work  and  bleaching-green.  The  Manse  was 
on  the  borderland  of  mountain  and  plain,  for  it  was 
placed  at  the  o^Dcning  of  Campsie  Glen,  famous  for 
its  picturesque    series  of  thundering  waterfalls   and 


28  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

rocky  pools.  Behind  the  Manse  lay  the  clachan  and 
the  old  parish  church,  now  in  ruin. 

This  was  a  busy  period  in  his  father's  life,  for, 
besides  taking  the  pastoral  charge  of  the  large  parish, 
he  wrote,  during  the  ten  years  of  his  ministry  in 
C'ampsie,  the  greater  part  of  the  Gaelic  Dictionary, 
which  bears  his  name  along  with  that  of  Dr.  Dewar. 
He  was  editor  and  chief  contributor  to  a  monthly 
Gaelic  magazine,  which  acquired  unrivalled  popularity 
in  the  Highlands  ;  *  and  he  also  translated,  at  the 
request  of  the  Synod  of  Ulster,  a  metrical  version  of 
the  Psalms  into  Irish  Gaelic,  for  the  use  of  the  Irisli 
Presbyterian  Church.  Besides  these  literary  labours, 
he  took  the  chief  part  in  establishing  the  education 
scheme  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  the  special  sphere 
of  which  lay  in  the  Highlands.  While  these  public 
laboui"s  taxed  his  energy,  his  increasing  family,  and 
the  concomitant  rc8  angusta  clomi^  gave  no  little 
anxiety  to  himself  and  his  partner  in  life.  The  Manse 
maintained  the  traditions  of  Highland  hospitality,  and 
the  ingenuity  with  which  guests  were  accommodated 
was  equalled  only  by  the  skill  with  which  a  very 
limited  income  was  made  to  cover  the  expenses  of 
housekeeping,  and  the  many  requirements  of  a  family 
of  eleven  children.  Norman  was  sent  for  a  year  to 
the  parish  school,  taught,  as  many  such  schools 
then  were,  by  a  licentiate  of  the  Church — an  excellent 
scholar,  and  a  man  of  great  simplicity  and  culture. 

There  is  little  to  record  of  his  schooldays,  or  of 
his  first  years  at  college.  His  career  at  tlie  Univer- 
sity of  Glasgow,  where  he   took    his  curriculum  of 

*  The  '  Toachdairo  Oaelltachd.' 


EARLY  COLLEGE  DAYS.  29 

Arts,  was  not  distinguished  by  the  number  of  prizes 
he  carried  off,  for  he  gave  himself  rather  to  the 
stud}^  of  general  literature  and  of  science  than  the 
subjects  proper  to  the  classes  he  attended.  Logic, 
admirably  taught  by  Professor  Buchanan,  was  in- 
deed the  only  class  in  Arts  which  kindled  his  enthu- 
siasm, and  it  was  also  the  only  one  in  which  he 
obtained  academical  honours.  He  was  frequently 
di'essed  sailor-fashion,  and  loved  to  affect  the  sailor 
in  his  speech  as  well  as  dress.  His  chosen  com- 
panions seem  to  have  been  lads  of  precocious  literary 
power — some  of  them  considerably  older  than  himself 
— whose  attainments  first  inspired  him  with  a  passion 
for  books,  and  especially  for  poetry.  His  favourite 
authors  were  Shakespear  and  Wordswoi'th,  the  fii'st 
acquaintance  with  whose  works  was  as  the  discovery 
of  a  new  world.  He  was,  besides,  passionately 
fond  of  natural  science,  and  spent  most  of  his 
spare  houi's  in  the  Museum  studying  ornithology. 
There  is  little  in  his  journals  or  letters  to  indicate 
the  impression  which  these  college  j^ears  made  on 
him ;  but  one  of  the  favourite  subjecits  of  conversation 
in  his  later  days  was  the  curious  life  he  then  led ; 
the  strange  characters  it  ga\  e  him  for  acquaintance ; 
the  conceits,  absurdities,  enthusiasms  in  which  it 
abounded;  the  social  gatherings  and  suppers,  which 
were  its  worst  dissipations ;  the  long,  speculative 
talks,  lasting  far  into  the  night,  in  which  its  glory 
and  blessedness  culminated — and  the  hard,  although 
unsystematic,  studies  to  which  it  was  the  introduction. 
The  loss  of  accurate  scholarship  which  the  desul- 
loriness  of  this  kind  of  training  entailed  mi  Hit  not 


30  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

have  been  sufficiently  compensated  by  other  adv.in- 
tages ;  nevertheless,  contact  ■with  men,  insijiht  into 
character,  the  culture  of  poetic  tastes,  of  original 
thought,  and  of  an  eye  for  nature,  were  perhaps  no 
mean  substitutes  for  skill  in  Latin  verse  and  ac- 
quaintance with  the  Greek  particles.  He  was,  besides, 
very  far  from  being  idle.  He  read  much  and  thought 
freshty,  and  even  at  a  very  early  period  in  his 
University  career  he  seems  to  have  contemplated  join- 
ing a  fellow-student  in  the  publication  of  a  volume  of 
tales  and  poetry.  His  moral  life  was  at  the  same 
time  pure,  and  his  religious  convictions,  though  not 
so  strong  as  they  afterwards  became,  were  yet  such  as 
prevented  him  from  yielding  to  the  many  temptations 
to  which  one  of  his  temperament  and  abounding,  as  he 
did,  in  animal  spirits  was  greatly  exposed.  Next  to  the 
grace  of  God,  his  affection  for  home  and  its  associa- 
tions kept  him  steady.  A  short  journey  from  Glas- 
gow brought  him  out  on  many  a  Saturday  during 
the  session  to  spend  Sunday  at  Campsie,  and  the 
loving  welcomes  he  there  received  and  the  thou- 
sand influences  of  the  Manse  life  served  to  keep  liis 
heart  fresh  and  pui'e.  These  visits  sometimes  gave 
no  little  concern  to  his  father  and  mother,  for  coming 
as  he  did  in  a  full  burst  of  buovant  excitement  after 
the  restraint  of  study,  the  noisy  fun  and  the  ceaseless 
mimicry  in  which  he  indulged,  disturbing  the  very 
quiet  of  the  Sabbath,  made  them  afraid  that  he  would 
never  be  sedate  enough  for  being  a  minister.  Both 
father  and  niotlier,  who  could  scarcely  repress  their 
own  iiinghter  at  his  jokes,  wrote  to  him  very  gravely 
on  tlie  dangerous  tendencies  Mhieh   were  nianifestin<^ 


EARLY  COLLEGE  DAYS.  31 

themselves  in  him.  But  they  might  as  well  have  ashed 
him  to  cease  to  be,  and,  had  they  told  the  secret  truth, 
they  would  scarcely  have  wished  him  different  from 
what  he  was.*  And  so  he  passed  the  four  years  of  his 
study  of  'the  Arts,'  with  happy  summers  interspersed, 
sometimes  in  the  Highlands,  sometimes  in  Campsie, 
until,  in  1831,  he  v/ent  to  Edinburgh  to  study  theology. 
Dr.  Chalmers  was  then  professor,  and  Norman 
listened  with  delight  and  wonder  to  lectures,  which 
were  delivered  with  thrilling,  almost  terrible,  earnest- 
ness.     The  Professor's   noble  enthusiasm  kindled    a 

*  There  were  some  most  original  characters  then  in  Campsie, 
who  afforded  much  amusement  to  Norman ;  but  his  great  iriend 
was  old  Bell,  the  author  of  '  Bell's  Geography,'  and  editor  of 
'  RoUin's  Ancient  History.'  This  man  had  been  a  weaver,  but,  im- 
pelled by  a  powerful  intellect  and  literary  taste,  he  devoted  himself  to 
study.  He  lived  with  his  wife  in  a  mere  hut,  and  sat  surrounded 
by  books,  a  Kilmarnock  night-cap  on  his  head,  and  conversing 
with  an  emphasis  and  an  originality,  not  unworthy  of  Johnson,  on 
every  subject — literary,  political,  theological.  Some  of  his  sayings 
are  worth  recording.  There  was  a  hawker  in  the  parish,  a  keen 
controversialist,  ever  talking  of  his  own  perfect  assurance  of  salva- 
tion, but  withal  very  greedy  and  worldly.  "Humph!"  grunted 
old  Bell,  when  asked  his  opinion  of  him ;  "  I  never  saw  a  man  so  sure 
o'  goin'  to  heaven,  and  sae  sweart  (unwilling)  to  gang  till't."  He 
used  to  utter  aloud  in  church  his  dissent  to  any  doctrine  he  disliked, 
or  sometimes  his  impatience  expressed  itself  by  his  long  black  stick 
being  twirled  gradually  up  through  his  fingers  till  it  reached  well  over 
his  head.  On  one  occasion,  a  young  preacher  having  chosen  as  his  text, 
"There  shall  be  no  more  sea,"  proceeded  to  show  the  advantages  of 
such  a  condition  of  things.  Higher  and  higher  rose  Bell's  stick  as  his 
favourite  principles  of  geography  were  being  assailed  under  every 
'  head,'  till  at  last  it  came  down  with  a  dash  on  the  pavement,  accom- 
panied by  a  loud  '  Bah  !  the  fule  ! '  When  he  was  dying,  an  excel- 
lent young  man,  whose  religious  zeal  was  greater  than  his  ability, 
volunteered  to  pray  with  him.  Bell  grunted  assent;  but  as  the 
prayer  assumed  throughout  that  the  old  man  was  a  reprobate,  he 
could  scarcely  restrain  himself  to  the  Amen,  before  he  burst  out, 
"  I'm  saying,  my  man,  nae  doubt  ye  me:in  well ;  but  ye'd  better  gang 
hame  and  learn  to  pray  for  yoursel'  afore  ye  l)ray  for  other  folk.'' 
When  Norman  remonstrated  with  him  afterw'ards  for  his  rudeness,  Bell 
?a:d,  "  Mnybe  ye're  richt;  but,  sure  as  death,  Norman,  I  canna  thole 
[bear]  a  fule  !  " 


3X  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

responsive  glow  in  the  young  hearts  wliich  gatliorod  to 
listen  to  him,  and  the  kindly  interest  he  took  in  their 
personal  welfare  inspired  them  with  affection  as  well 
as  admiration.  Dr.  Welsh,  a  man  of  kindred  spirit 
and  powerful  intellect,  then  taught  Church  History. 
iSucli  influences  did  not  fail  to  waken  in  Xorinan  loftier 
conceptions  of  the  career  to  which  he  looked  forward. 
As  might  have  been  expected,  Chalmers  had  a  pecu- 
liar power  over  him,  for  professor  and  student  had 
many  similar  natural  characteristics.  The  large- 
heartedness  of  the  teacher,  his  missionary  zeal,  and 
the  continual  play  of  human  tenderness  pervaded  by 
the  holy  light  of  divine  love,  roused  the  sympathies 
of  the  scholar.  He  heartily  loved  him.  And  Chal- 
mers also  valued  the  character  of  the  student,  for 
when  asked  by  a  wealthy  English  proprietor  to  re- 
commend for  his  only  son  a  tutor  in  whose  character 
and  sense  he  might  have  thorough  reliance,  Chalmers 
at  once  named  Norman.  This  connection  became  of 
great  importance  to  him.  The  gentleman  alluded  to 
was  the  late  Heniy  Preston,  Esq.,  of  Moreby  Hall,  theu 
High  Sheriff  of  Yorkshire.  For  the  next  three  years 
Norman  acted  as  tutor  to  his  son ;  and  whether  resid- 
ing at  Moreby  or  travelling  on  the  Continent,  the 
simple-hearted  old  squire  treated  him  with  the  utmost 
confidence  and  affection.  In  the  autumn  of  1833  ho 
went  for  a  few  weeks  to  Moreby,  but  retiu-ned  shortly 
afterwards  with  his  pupil  to  Edinburgh,  and  was  tlius 
able  to  attend  his  theological  classes,  while  he  also 
superintended  the  studies  of  young  Mr.  Preston. 

During  his  second  session  at  Edinburgh,  besides  the 
usual  classes,   he  attended  Professor  Jamieson's  Ice- 


EARLY  COLLEGE  DAYS.  33 

tures  on  geology,  and  studied  drawing  and  music. 
His  broth er-in-law,  the  Rev.  A.  Clerk,  LL.D.,  who  was 
then  his  fellow-student,  contributes  the  following  re- 
miniscence : — 

"  It  Avas  in  the  social  circle  Norman  displayed  the 
wondrous  versatility,  originality,  and  brilliancy  of  his 
mind.  With  a  few  of  his  chosen  companions  round  him 
he  made  the  evening  instructive  and  delightful.  He  fre- 
quently, by  an  intuitive  glance,  revealed  more  of  the  heart 
of  a  subject  than  others  with  more  extensive  and  accurate 
scholarship  could  attain  through  their  acquirements  in 
philosophy  or  history.  He  was  often  disposed  to  start 
the  wildest  paradoxes,  which  he  would  defend  by  the 
most  plausible  analogies,  and,  if  forced  to  retreat  from  his 
position,  he  would  do  so  under  a  shower  of  ludicrous 
retorts  and  fanciful  images.  He  was  ever  ready  with  the 
most  apt  quotations  from  Shakespear,  Wordsworth,  Cole- 
ridge, and  Keats,  or  with  some  telling  story  ;  or,  brimming 
over  with  fun,  he  would  improvise  crambo  rhymes,  some- 
times most  pointed,  always  ludicrous  ;  or,  bursting  into 
song,  throw  more  nature  into  its  expression  than  I 
almost  ever  heard  from  any  singer.  The  sparkling  effer- 
vescence of  his  mind  often  astonished,  and  always  charmed 
and  stirred,  the  thoughts,  feelings,  and  enthusiasm  of  his 
companions." 

It  was  at  this  time  he  experienced  the  first  great 
sorrow  of  his  life.  His  brother  James,  his  junior 
by  three  years,  was  a  lad  of  fine  promise.  Like 
Korman  in  many  things,  he  was  his  opposite  in  others, 
and  the  unlikeness  as  well  as  similarity  of  their  tastes 
served  only  to  draw  them  nearer  to  each  other.  Clever, 
pure-minded,  and  affectionate,  he  was  also — what  Nor- 
man never  was — orderly,  fond  of  practical  work,  and 
mechanics.  Norman  was  rollicking  in  his  fun,  James 
quietly  humourous.  He  was  the  delegated  manager 
of  glebe  and  garden,  and  of  so  sweet  and  winning  a 

VOL.  I.  D 


%x  L//V-:  OF  A'UA'JLLV  MACLEOD. 

iKitui'o,  that  wlion  lie  died  the  tokens  of  sorrow  dis- 
phiycd  by  many  in  the  parish  were  a  surprise,  as  well 
as  a  consolation,  to  his  parents.  Ilitherto  Norman  had 
given  little  expression  to  the  religious  convictions 
Avhich  had  been  increasing  with  liis  growth  since 
childhood.  Now,  however,  he  broke  silence.  In  the 
sick-room,  with  none  but  their  mother  present,  the 
two  brothers  opened  their  hearts  to  one  another  ;  and, 
on  the  last  evening  they  were  ever  to  spend  together, 
the  elder  asked  if  he  might  pray  with  the  younger, 
Tliis  was  the  first  time  he  had  ever  prayed  aloud  in 
the  presence  of  others,  and  with  a  full  heart  he 
poured  out  his  supplications  for  himself  and  his  dying 
brother.  When  he  left  the  room,  James,  calling  his 
mother,  put  his  arms  round  her  neck,  and  said,  '  I 
am  so  thankful,  mother.  Norman  will  be  a  good 
man.'  This  was  a  turning-point  in  Norman's  life ; 
not,  indeed,  such  a  crisis  as  is  usually  called  con- 
version ;  not  tliat  the  scene  in  the  sick-room  marked 
his  first  religious  decision;  but  the  solemnity  of  the 
circumstances,  the  frank  avowal  of  his  faith,  and  the 
tremendous  deepening  which  his  feelings  received  by 
the  death  which,  occurred  a  few  days  afterwards, 
formed  an  epoch  from  which  he  ever  afterwards 
dated  the  commencement  of  earnest  Christian  life. 
The  anniversary  of  his  brother's  death  was  always 
kept  sacred  by  him.  Othei*  critical  times  arrived, 
other  turning-points  no  less  important  were  passed  ; 
but,  as  in  many  other  instances,  this  first  death  in 
the  family,  with  the  impressions  it  conveyed  of  the 
reality  of  eternity  and  of  the  grandeur  of  tlu^  life  in 
Christ,  was  to  him  '  the  beginning  of  days,' 


EARLY  COLLEGE  DAYS.  35 

At  the  close  of  the  winter  session  he  returned,  with 
Mr.  Preston,  to  Moreby,  and  in  the  following  May  ho 
and  his  pupil  started  for  the  Continent. 


Tii  his  Mother,  written  by  him  when  a  mere  boy  ?— 

Campsie  Manse,  Friday. 

"  I  know  how  very  difficult  it  is  to  ease  the  yearnings 
of  a  mother's  heart  when  far  from  her  beloved  offspring  ; 
yet  I  am  sure,  when  she  hears  that  '  all  are  well,'  the 
wan  and  wrinkled  face  of  anxiuty  will  give  way  to  the 
bloom  of  youth  that  makes  you  look  at  all  times  so 
beautiful.  The  garret  windows  being  nailed,  none  of  the 
children  have  fallen  over,  and  the  garden  door  being 
locked,  none  have  died  of  gooseberry  or  cherry  fevers. 

"  But  the  children  are  the  least  of  my  thoughts  ;  no, 
no,  let  them  all  die  if  the  housekeeping  succeeds  ;  this  is 
the  point.  The  Principal''"'  and  Mr.  Gordon  came  here 
to-night,  and  don't  go  otf  till  Monday  !  I  and  Betty  are 
dying  of  lamb  fevers  with  the  very  thoughts  of  preparing 
dinners  out  of  nothing  ;  tliese  two  nights  I  have  been 
smothered  alive  by  salmon  and  legs  of  roasted  lamb 
crammed  down  my  throat  by  Jessy  and  Betty.  Oh,  my 
dear  mamma,  it  is  only  now  that  a  fond  mother  is  missed, 
when  dangers  and  misfortunes  assail  us.  If  you  but  saw 
me  without  clothes  to  cover,  or  shoes  to  put  on  my  feet, 
all  worn  away  with  cooking.      I  am  quite  crusty. 

"  But  I  will  not  mar  your  enjoj^nents  or  hurt  your 
feelings  by  relating  more  of  this  melancholy  tale. 

"  Betty,  my  worthy  housekeeper,  has  told  me  to-day 
that  she  has  forty-five  young  birds  and  ducks.  I  think 
a  sixth  is  to  be  added  in  the  laundry — if  it  be  so,  I 
intend  to  get  a  share  of  Donald  Achalene'sf  hed  in  the 
asylum." 

*  Principal  Baird,  of  Edinburgh. 
f  A  Highland  character. 

D    2 


36  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  MoTllEii,  •when  ho  was  a  student  in  Glasgow  :— 

"  While  younger,  ami  under  tlie  immediate  eye  of  your 
father  and  myself,  I  could  watch  every  little  tendency  of 
your  disposition,  and  endeavour  as  much  as  I  could  to 
give  it  the  right  bias  ;  but  now,  my  beloved  child,  you 
are  seldom  with  me,  you  are  exposed  to  many  temptations, 
and  oh,  if  you  knew  the  many  anxious  thoughts  this  gives 
rise  to  !  Not,  my  dear,  that  I  fear  anything  wrong  in 
principle,  in  the  common  acceptation  of  the  word  ;  but  how 
many  shades  are  there  between  what  is  glaringly  and  broadly 
wrong  to  the  generality  of  observers,  and  the  thousand  acts 
and  thoughts  and  words  that  must  be  watched  and  cor- 
rected and  repented  of  and  abandoned,  in  order  to  become 
a  Christian  !  Avoid  whatever  you  have  found  hurtful,  be  it 
ever  so  delightful  to  your  taste,  and  persevt-re  in  whatever 
you  have  found  useful  towards  promoting  piety  and 
heavenly-mindedness.  You  must  not  look  on  this  as  a 
mother's  dry  lecture  to  her  son  ;  no,  it  is  the  warm  affec- 
tion of  a  heart  that  truly  loves  you  as  scarce  another  can 
do,  and  which  prays  and  watches  for  your  eternal  interest." 

Frovi  his  Father  :■■ — 

Campsie,  February  23,  1829. 

"  I  rejoice  to  see  your  companions,  if  you  would  conduct 
yourself  with  calmness  and  seriousness  on  the  Sabbath  day, 
and  cease  your  buffoonery  of  manner  in  tone  of  voice  and 
distortions  of  countenance,  which  are  not  only  offensive,  but 
grievous.  You  carry  this  nonsense  by  much  too  far,  and  I 
beg  of  you,  my  dear  Norman,  to  check  it.  Imitation  and 
acting  a  fool  is  a  poor  field  to  shine  in  ;  it  may  procure  the 
laugh  of  some,  but  cannot  fail  to  secure  the  contempt  of 
others.  I  was  much  pleased  with  the  manner  of  the  Stewart 
boys — their  steady,  grave,  sedate  manner  formed  a  very 
striking  contrast  to  the  continual  mimicking  and  nonsense 
at  which  you  aim.  I  imi)lore  of  you,  by  the  tenderness  of 
a  father,  and  by  the  authority  of  one,  to  desist  from  it 
in  time,  and  to  despise  it,  and  to  assume  a  more  manly, 
sedate  manner. 


EARLY  COLLEGE  DAYS.  37 

"  I  liope  you  will  take  in  good  part,  as  becomes  yv:,ii,  all 
I  lia\e  stated,  and  evince  to  nie  that  you  do  so  when  I 
have  the  happiness,  my  dear  boy,  to  see  you.  I  rejoice  to 
see  everybody  happy  ;  but  there  is  a  manner  that  gains  on 
a  person  if  indulged  in,  which  must  be  guarded  against, 
and  none  more  dangerous  than  that  buffoonery  which,  by 
making  others  laugh,  causes  us  to  think  ourselves  very 
clever.  You,  even  alread}',  seldom  use  your  own  voice  or 
gestures  or  look — all  is  put  on  and  mimicked  ;  this  nmiist 
cease,  and  the  sooner  the  better.  After  this  I  shall  say 
no  more  on  the  subject.  I  leave  it  to  your  own  good 
sense  to  correct  this. 

"  Ever  your  dutiful  Father." 

To  his  Aunt  Jane  : — 

Fehruary,  1831. 

"  I  read  your  letter  over  and  over,  and  chuckled  over 
its  coruscations  of  wit  and  brilliancy ;  swallowed,  and  finally 
digested  all  the  advices.  In  fact,  it  brought  me  back  to 
Fiunary  once  more — to  Fiunary  with  all  its  pleasures  and 
its  many  enjoyments.  I  could,  Avith  a  little  effort  of  fancy, 
picture  myself  sitting  with  J.  in  the  garret,  giving  way 
to  my  mimicking  propensities  to  please  her,  in  what- 
ever character  she  chose,  or  one  of  the  social"  circle 
round  a  happy  tea-table,  or  taking  an  intellectual  walk 
along  the  beach  ;  and  no  sooner  is  this  imaginary  train 
set  a-going  than  many  a  happy  day  spent  among  the 
rocks,  and  in  the  woods,  hills,  or  glens,  rises  ghost-like 
before  me,  till  my  too  pleasing  dream  is  broken  by  a  dire 
reality — the  college  bell  summoning  poor  wretches  from 
their  warm  beds  to  trudge  through  snow  and  sleet  to  hear 
a  crude  lecture  on  philosophy,  and  reminding  me  that 
I  have  so  much  to  do  that  I  cannot  expect  to  see 
my  dream  realised  for  another  year.  There  is  no  use  in 
fighting  against  fate,  though  I  long  for  the  day  that  I  shall 
escape  from  prison,  and  '  visit  those  blessed  solitudes  from 
toils  and  towns  remote.'  " 


38  LIFE  OF  XURMAX  MACLEOD. 

¥r\j)i\  his  MoTiiKK  :^ 

Campsie,  Novrmher  27. 
"  It  given  mo  pleasure  to  observe  the  warm  and  genuine 
feelings  and  confessions  of  fin  affectionate  disposition — ■ 
freely  spoken.  Yes,  my  dear  Norman,  long  may  I  find  you 
frankly  owning  your  thoughts  and  feelings  ;  this  is  the 
true  way  to  a  parent's  heart,  and  the  true  and  only  com- 
fortal)le  footing  for  parent  and  child — the  only  way  ia 
which  a  parent  can  really  be  of  use  ;  and  never  Avill  you 
repent  trusting  yourself  to  me.  Wonderful  would  be  the 
fault  that,  when  candidly  acknowledged,  I  could  not  excuse, 
or  at  least  try  to  help  you  to  remedy.  In  all  I  said  I 
wished  to  cure  you  of  an  ugly  habit  of  arguing  that  has 
crept  in  on  you,  before  it  becomes  a  confirmed  habit, 
and  leads  you  (just  for  argument's  sake)  to  maintain 
wrong  views  ;  from  first  beginning  to  argue  you  will  by- 
and-by  think  these  views  right." 

To  his  Aunt  Jane  : — ■ 

June,  1832. 

*'  Where,  in  the  name  of  wonder,  did  you  light  on  that 
lovely  poem,  Jane  ?  Talk  no  more  to  me  of  the  powers 
of  music  to  lull  the  angry  feelings  or  to  excite  the  more 
gentle  ones.      Poetry,  poetry,  for  ever  ! 

"  We  have  had  four  cases  of  cholera  here,  and  two 
deaths.  My  father  was  down  at  the  Torrance  every  day, 
and  had  no  small  trouble  between  keeping  down  roivs, 
coffining  the  bodies,  and  quelling  all  those  disgraceful  and 
riotous  feelings  that  have  been  too  much  the  attendants  of 
this  sad  complaint. 

"  All  the  children  are  half  ill  with  chicken-pox  ;  Polly's 
face  is  like  a  rock  with  limpets.  Limpets  !  How  that 
word  does  conjure  up  a  thousand  associations ! — the  fish- 
ing rock,  the  rising  tide  waving  the  tangle  to  and  fro  at 
my  feet !  Out  comes  a  fine  cod,  see  how  he  smells  the 
bait !  I  am  already  sure  of  him  ;  I  know  the  bait  is  good, 
and  the  hook  of  the  best  Limerick.  He  snitfs  it,  and 
away  he  slowly  sails,  gently  moving  his  tail  from  side  to 
side  as  he  goes  off.      Uut  lu  repeiics   and  turns  back  and 


EARLY  COLLEGE  DAYS.    *  39 

casts  a  longing  look  at  the  large  bait  ;  slowly  his  jaws 
open,  and  in  the  most  dignified  manner  close  on  the  meal, 
and  now  the  line  strains,  the  rod  bends,  I  see  something 
white  turning  in  the  water,  my  eyes  fill  till  I  hear  '  Whack  ' 
on  the  rock,  and  there  he  lies  as  red  as — as  what's  the 
man's  name,  at  Savarie — John  Scallag's  father  ?  as  red  as 
he.  Pardon  me,  Jane  ;  this  night  is  oppressively  hot,  it  is 
perfect  summer.  They  are  turning  the  almost  dry  hay  on 
the  glebe — a  calm  sleeps  on  the  woods  and  hills,  and 
this,  too,  vividly  recalls  the  Sound  of  Mull,  as  J  fxncy  it 
to  be  on  such  an  evening.  I  am  at  this  moment  in  fancy 
walking  uj)  the  road  to  Fiunary  with  a  gadd  of  fish, 
knowing  that  thanks  and  a  good  tea  await  me. 

"  I  confess  that  when  I  indulge  in  such  fa  icies  I  invo- 
luntarily wish  myself  away  from  my  books  to  feast  and 
revel  in  the  loveliness  of  the  Salachan  shore,  or  '  Clach 
na  Criche  ; '  but,  as  I  told  you  before,  I  wish  to  have 
some  summer  to  look  back  to  as  one  usefully  employed." 

Letter  to  his  Brother  James.     (Inside  of  this  letter  was  found  placed 
a  lock  of  James's  hair) : — 

MoREBY  Hall,  October,  1833. 

"  I  went  on  Sabbath  to  church.  There  Avas  no  orgnn  ; 
but  what  think  you  ?  a  flute,  violin,  and  bass  fiddle, 
with  some  bad  sinofing.  However,  I  liked  the  service 
much.  Monday  was  a  great  day  at  York,  all  the  town 
and  country  Avere  there,  it  being  the  time  at  Avhich, 
once  every  three  or  four  years,  Lord  Vernon,  the  Arch- 
bishop of  York,  confirms  the  children  of  this  part  of 
the  diocese.  The  scene  was  beyond  all  description. 
Fancy  upwards  of  three  thousand  children  under  fifteen, 
the  females  dressed  in  white,  with  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
all  assembled  in  that  glorious  minster — the  thousand 
stained  glass  windows  throwing  a  dazzling  light  of  various 
hues  on  the  white  mass — the  great  organ  booming  like 
thunder  through  the  never-ending  arches  !  The  ceremony 
is  intensely  simple ;  they  come  in  forties  and  fifties,  and 
surround  the  bishojD,  who  repeats  the  vows  and  \a.ys  his 
hand  successively  on  each  head.     I  could  not  help  com- 


40  LIFE  OF  XURMA.Y  MACLEOD. 

\\\\x\\\^  tliis  with  ii  sacramcntiil  occasion  in  the  Higlilands,* 
where  there  is  no  niinster  but  the  wide  heaven,  and  no 
offjan  but  the  roar  ot"  the  eternal  sea,  the  church  with  its 
kincly  churcliyard  and  primitive  congregation,  and — tliink 
of  my  Scotch  pride  ! — I  thought  the  hitter  scene  more  grand 
and  more  impressive.  I  ascended  to-day  to  the  top  of  the 
great  tower  in  the  minster,  two  hun<h-ed  and  seventy  ste})s  ! 
But  such  a  view  !  I  gazed  from  instinct  towards  the 
North  for  a  while — not  that  I  expected  to  see  anything ; 
but  there  was  nothing  but  masses  of  w'ood." 

Extracts  from  his  Jouknal  :  — 

"Edinburgh,  Tuesday,  1st  Nov.,  1833. — "  Began  to  read 
on  crystallography  and  geology  (Lyell).  I  wish,  above  all 
things,  to  know  mineralogy  and  geology  thoroughly.  I 
must  attend  chemistry,  anatomy,  and  botany.  To  acquire 
accurate  knowledge  is  no  joke. 

"  Tuesday,  Srd  Bee. — There  are  certain  days  and  times 
m  a  man's  existence  which  are  eras  in  his  little  history, 
and  which  greatly  influence  his  future  life.  This  day  has 
been  to  me  one  of  much  pain  ;  and  oh  !  when  the  grief 
has  passed  away  (and  shall  it  ever  be  so  ?)  may  its  influence 
still  remain !  I  heard  my  own  dear  brother  James  was  so 
ill  that  he  cannot,  in  all  human  probability,  recover. 
How  strange  that  I  who,  when  in  health  and  strength, 
and  with  everything  to  cheer,  and  little  to  depress  the 
heart,  thought  not  of  God,  the  great  Giver  of  all  good, 
should  now,  when  my  beloved  brother  is  sinking  into  the 
grave,  my  best  and  dearest  of  mothers  sore  at  heart  for 
her  child,  raise  my  voice,  and  I  hope  my  heart,  to  Him 
who  has  been  despised  and  rejected  by  me.  My  mother 
has  been  my  best  earthly  friend,  and  God  knows  the  heart- 
felt, profound  veneration  I  have  for  her  character.  And 
now,  0  God  of  my  Fathers,  this  3rd  day  of  December, 
solely  and  entirely  under  Thy  guidance,  I  commence  again 
to  fight  the  good  fight.  I  acknowledge  Thy  hand  in  mak- 
ing my  dear  brother's  illness  the  means;  through,  and  only 

*  It  is  a  common  custom  in  the  Highlands  to  colobrato  the  Com- 
mimion  in  the  open  air  during  summer. 


EARLY  COLLEGE  DAYS.  41 

for  tlie  sake  of  the  great  Redeemer  Jesus  Christ  do  I  look 
for  an  answer  to  my  most  earnest  prayer.      Amen. 

"  Tkurs>lay. — It  is  j^ast  twelve.  The  wind  blows 
loud,  and  the  rain  falls.  I  am  alone  in  body,  but  my 
mind  is  in  my  brother's  room,  where,  I  am  sure,  my  dear 
mother  is  now  Avatching  her  boy  with  a  heavy  heart. 
May  God  be  with  them  both  ! 

"  Saturday. — I  heard  the  waits  last  night  play  '  The  Last 
Rose  of  Summer'  beautifully.  It  went  to  my  heart ;  I 
thought  of  my  poor  James.  The  week  is  j)ast,  the  most 
memorable,  it  may  be,  in  my  existence. 

"Monday,  16th  Dec. — I  saw  James,  Wednesday  morn- 
ing. Such  a  shadow  !  Still  the  same  firm  mind,  with  the 
same  dependence  upon  his  Saviour.  I  shall  never,  I  hope, 
come  to  that  state  in  Avhich  I  can  forget  all  the  kindness 
wdiich  God  has  shown  me  for  the  last  six  days !  I  had 
many  earnest  conversations  with  dear  James. 

"  Alas,  this  day  I  parted  from  one  I  loved  as  devotedly 
as  a  brother  can  be  loved  !  Thank  God  and  Christ,  we  shall 
meet.  I  went  to  his  bedside  :  '  I  am  going  away,  James, 
my  boy  ;  but  I  trust  to  see  you  for  a  day  during  the  holi- 
days.' '  Norman,  dear,  if  I'm  spared  I'll  see  you.  But 
what  is  this  to  end  in  ?'  I  liardly  knew  Avhat  to  say.  *  I 
know  your  firmness  of  mind.  But,  James,  it  is  but  the 
husk,  the  mere  shell.'  '  I  am  very  weak.'  '  Yes,  Jamie  ; 
but  I  shall  be  weak,  and  all  weak.  I  part  Avithout  sorrow, 
for  I  know  you  are  Christ's,  and  Christ  is  God's.'  '  I 
have,  Norman,  got  clearer  views  since  we  met.  I  know 
on  Avhom  I  can  lean.' 

"Friday  evening,  ^Oth  Dec. — It  is  all  past.  My  dear 
brother  is  now  with  his  own  Saviour.  I  do  heartily  thank 
God  for  His  kindness  to  him  ;  for  his  patience,  his  man- 
liness, his  love  to  his  Redeemer.  May  I  follow  his 
footsteps  !  May  I  join  with  James  in  the  universal  song  ! 
I  know  not,  my  own  brother,  wdiether  you  now  see  me  or 
not.  If  you  know  my  heart,  you  will  know  my  love  for 
you,  and  that  in  passing  through  this  pilgrimage,  I  shall 
never  forget  you  who  accompanied  me  so  far.  '  Thy  will 
be  done  on  earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaven.' 


42  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  Ilia  Mother  : — 

Fi'h-uary  7,  1834. 

"  Now,  Avrite  mc  everything  as  you  would  to  your  oivn 
heart,  and  do  not  hide  even  2)assing  uneasy  feehngs,  foi 
fear  of  making  me  uneas}^  Beheve  me,  I  will  just  give 
everything  its  own  value,  and  from  '  the  heart  to  the 
heart'  is  all,  you  know,  I  care  for." 

From  his  JouKNAL  : — 

"  Friday. — Went  in  the  evening  Avith  Uncle  Neil  to  a 
meeting  of  the  Shakespear  Club — Vandenhotf,  }3all, 
MacKay,  &c.  A  very  pleasant  evening  ;  fine  singing  ;  two 
scenes  I  won't  forget :  the  noble  feeling  of  Vandenhotf  when 
his  daughter's  health  was  drunk,  and  Ball's  acclamations  (!  !) 
interrupting  a  very  humbugging,  stupid  speech,  2:)roposing 
the  memory  of  Lord  Byron.  There  is  blarney  all  the 
world  over.  I  plainly  see  the  stage,  as  it  now  is,  and  the 
Church  are  at  com2ilete  antipodes. 

"  Sunday. — Not  two  months  dead — my  dearest  brother 
— and  yet  how  changed  am  I  !  I  thank  God  Avith  my  whole 
heart  and  soul  that  He  has  not  forsaken  me.  I  seem  a 
merry,  thoughtless  being.  But  I  spend  many  a  thinking  and 
pleasant  hour  in  that  sick-room.  That  pale  face,  all  intel- 
ligence and  love — the  black  hair — the  warm  and  gallant 
heart  of  him  I  loved  as  well  as  a  brother  can  be  loved — • 
shall  never  be  forgotten." 

To  his  Mother  : — 

York,  March  9,  1834. 

"In  an  old,  snug  garret,  in  the  city  of  York,  upon 
Good  Friday,  with  the  minst(;r  clock  chiming  twelve  of 
the  night,  do  I  sit  down  to  have  a  long  chat  with  you,  my 
dearest  mother. 

"  I  intend  upon  Sabbath  to  take  the  sacrnmont  at 
Moreby.  I  have  reflected  on  the  step,  and  Avliile  I  see 
no  objection,  I  can  see  every  reason  in  showing  forth 
the  Lord's  death  with  Christian  brethren  of  the  same 
calHng ;  as  to  me,  individually,  it  signifies  little  whetlier 
I  take  it  kneeling  at  an  altar,  or  sitting  at  a  table." 


EARLY  COLLEGE  DAYS.  43 

To  his  Aunt:  — 

SiON  Hill,  April  12,  1834. 

"  One  peep  of  Locli  Aline  or  of  Glen  Dim  is  worth  all 
in  Yorkshire.  Their  living  is  certainly  splendid ;  but, 
believe  me,  I  shall  never  eat  any  of  their  ragouts,  or  drink 
their  champagne,  with  the  same  relish  as  I  ate  the  cake 
and  drank  the  milk  beside  my  wee  bed  when  I  returned 
from  tishing.  If  only  the  white  can  had  not  been 
broken ! " 

To  his  MoTHEu  : — • 

Near  MoiiEBY,  April  15,  1834. 

"  The  house  is  full,  and  I  am  now  sleeping  at  the  farm, 
a  quarter  of  a  mile  from  the  house.  We  have  very  j^leasant 
people — Lady  Vavasour  and  her  son  and  daughter.  They 
have  been  abroad  for  six  or  seven  years  in  different  parts 
of  the  Continent.  She  and  I  are  great  friends.  We  get 
letters  from  her  for  the  Court  of  Weimar,  and  she  has 
been  drilling  me  how  to  speak  to  her  'Imperial  Highness' 
the  Grand  Duchess,  sister  to  the  late  Emperor  of  Russia." 

Frvvi  his  Journal  : — 

"22nd  April,  Monday. — Upon  Easter  Sunday  I 
partook  of  the  sacrament  in  York  minster,  and  although 
the  formulas  are  of  course  different  from  ours,  yet,  '  as 
there  is  no  virtue  in  them,  or  in  them  that  administer 
them,'  I  found  God  was  present  with  me  to  bestow  much 
comfort. 

"During  the  next  week  all  was  gaiety.  A  party  or 
ball  every  night.  The  next  week  we  spent  at  Sion  Hill 
and,  between  fishing,  riding,  seeing  the  railroad,  and,  above 
all,  Fountain  Abbey,  I  must  say  I  was  very  happy. 

"  I  start  to-morrow  morning  for  London.  But  what 
hangs  heavy  on  my  mind  is  the  deep  sense  of  responsibility 
I  am  under  :  I  have  not  only  the  superintendence  of  my 
pupil,  but  I  am  about  to  be  j^laced  in  hard  trial  in  a  thou- 
sand circumstances  which  are  eminently  calculated  to  draw 
my  mind  off  from  God.      But  ni}^  only  confidence  is  in 


+4  LIFE  or  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Him.  O  Thou  wlio  liast  brought  mc  to  this — Thou  who 
tlidst  make  me  wliat  I  am  wlieu  I  had  no  stroiigtli  of  my 
own — to  Tliy  loving  and  merciful  hands  I  conuncnd  my- 
self, wholly  trusting  that  I  may,  through  the  aid  of  Tliy 
Holy  Spirit,  be  every  day  more  sanctified  in  my  atVections, 
and  ever  constant  in  the  peiformaaco  of  my  duty." 


CEAPTEE  IV. 

WEIMAR. 

WEIMA"R,  the  capital  of  the  little  Duchy  of  Saxe- 
Weimar,  was  chosen  by  Norman  Macleod 
find  young  Preston  as  headquarters  during  their 
residence  on  the  Continent.  It  was  at  that  time  a 
desirable  place  for  those  who  wished  to  see  German 
life  as  well  as  to  study  German  language  and 
literature.  Not  that  the  external  features  of  the  town 
are  possessed  of  interest,  for  the  Palace,  with  its  sur- 
rounding park,  and  the  Eound  Tower,  containing  its 
excellent  free  library,  do  not  redeem  Weimar  from 
an  aspect  of  quiet  dulness.  Yet  it  was  anything  but 
dull  in  those  days.  The  people  prided  themselves  on 
the  memory  of  their  great  citizens — Goethe,  then 
recently  departed,  Herder,  Schiller,  and  Wieland — 
and  kept  up  the  tradition  of  literary  culture  derived 
from  that  golden  age  of  their  history;  while  the 
Grand  Duke,  with  his  court,  sustained  its  reputation 
for  hospitality  and  for  gaiety  of  the  old-fashioned 
order.  The  town  could  also  boast  of  a  good  theatre, 
an  excellent  opera,  and  music  ad  libitum  in  public 
gardens  and  cafes.  The  Grand  Duke  was  of  a  most 
amiable  disposition,   and   the  Duchess,  sister  of  the 


4.6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Hussian  Emperor,  was  a  woman  of  Lrilliancy  and 
culture,  and  of  great  kindness  of  lieart.  There  was 
an  early  dinner  at  the  Palace  every  Sunday,  followed 
by  an  evening  reception  for  all  foreigners  who  had 
been  introduced;  and  various  balls  and  state  cere- 
monies, scattered  at  short  intervals  throughout  the 
year,  averted  the  normal  stagnation  of  the  place,  and 
made  it  a  cheerful  and  pleasant  residence.  'With 
a  five-and-twenty  years'  experience  since  those  happy 
days  of  which  I  wi'ite,'  says  Thackeray,  who  had 
lived  in  Weimar  a  year  or  two  previous  to  the  time 
we  are  speaking  of,  '  and  an  acquaintance  with  an 
unusual  variety  of  human  kind,  I  think  I  have  never 
seen  a  society  more  simple,  charitable,  courteous, 
gentlemanlike,  than  that  of  the  dear  little  Saxon 
city  where  the  good  Schiller  and  the  great  Goethe 
lived  and  lie  buried.'  * 

The  charge  Avas  certainly  great  from  Dr.  Chalmers 
and  the  Divinity  Hall,  from  the  simple  habits  of  the 
Manse,  and  from  the  traditionary  beliefs,  bigotries, 
and  customs— some  true,  some  false — which  hedged 
the  religious  life  of  Scotland,  to  this  Weimar,  with  its 
rampant  worldliness  and  rationalism.  It  was,  never- 
theless, an  excellent  school  for  the  young  Scotchman, 
who  at  every  turn  found  some  insular  prejudice 
trampled  on,  or  the  strength  tried  of  some  abiding 
principle. 

The  most  remarkable  man  at  Weimar,  and  the 
great  friend  of  all  English  travellers,  was  Dr.  Weis- 
senborn.  He  was  a  cultivated  scliolar,  and  com- 
bined  the   strangest   eccentricities  of  character   and 

*  T  ettor  to  G.  U.  Lowes  iu  tlio  "  Story  of  the  T.ifo  of  Goethe." 


WEIMAR.  47 

belief  with  the  gentlest  and  most  unselfish  of  natures. 
He  was  a  confirmed  valetudinarian.  '  My  side  '  had 
become  a  distinct  personality  to  him,  whose  demands 
were  discussed  as  if  it  were  an  exacting  member  of  his 
household  rather  than  a  jDart  of  his  body ;  yet  Weimar 
would  have  lost  half  its  charm  but  for  old  Weissenborn, 
with  his  weak  side,  his  dog  Waltina,  his  chameleon 
(fruitful  source  of  many  a  theory  on  the  '  Kosmos '), 
his  collection  of  eggs,  and  innumerable  oddities  of 
mind  and  body.  All  the  English  who  went  to 
Weimar  loved  '  the  Doctor : '  and  no  father  or 
brother  could  have  taken  a  greater  interest  than  he 
did  in  promoting  their  happiness  and  in  directing 
their  studies.  'Thou  wert  my  instructor,  good  old 
Weissenborn,'  writes  Thackeray  lovingly.  'And 
these  eyes  beheld  the  great  master  himself  in  dear 
little  Weimar  town.'  * 

Norman  entered  on  this  new  life  with  great  zest. 
It  doubtless  had  its  dangers.  But  although  he  often 
swung  freely  with  the  current,  yet  his  grasp  of  cen- 
tral truth,  and  his  own  hearty  Christian  convictions,  so 
held  him  at  anchor  that,  through  the  grace  of  God,  he 
rode  safely  through  many  temptations,  and  was  able  to 
exercise  an  influence  for  good  over  the  group  of  young 
men  fi'om  England  or  Scotland  who  were  residing  that 
year  at  Weimar.  The  very  fact  that  he  entered  with 
them  into  all  their  innocent  enjoyments  and  gaieties 
gave  him  greater  power  to  restrain  them  in  other 
things.  He  may,  indeed,  have  often  given  too  great 
a  rein  to  that  '  liberty '  which  was  so  congenial  to 
his  natural  temjierament,  but  it  is  marvellous  that  the 

*  "  Eoiuidabout  Papers,  De  Fiuibus." 


48  LIFE  OF  NORMA X  MACLEOD. 

reaction  was  not  p;roator  in  one  "who,  bronglit  np  in  a 
strict  school,  was  suckleiily  tliiown  into  the  vortex  oi 
fashionable  life.  He  was  passionately  fond  of  mnsic, 
sang  well  to  the  guitar,  sketched  clcv^erly,  was  as 
keen  a  Avaltzer  as  any  attache  in  Weimar,  and  threw 
himself  with  a  vivid  sense  of  enjoyment  into  the 
gaieties  of  the  little  capital.  His  father  and  mother 
frequently  Avariied  him  against  going  too  far  in  all 
this ;  and  he  often  reproached  himself  for  what  lie 
deemed  his  want  of  self-restraint  when  in  society. 
Nevertheless,  the  experience  he  gained  in  "VVeimar 
became  of  immense  practical  importance  to  him.  His 
own  healthy  nature  repelled  the  evil,  while  he  gained 
an  insight  into  the  ways  of  the  world.  In  what  was 
new  to  him  he  saw  much  that  was  good ;  much  that 
in  his  own  country  was  called  unlawful,  whose  right 
use  he  felt  ought  to  be  vindicated ;  and  he  also  per- 
ceived the  essential  "vrickedness  of  much  more — in  the 
'  utter  rottenness'  (as  he  used  to  call  it)  '  of  what  the 
world  terms  life.' 

Weimar  also  brought  him  another  influence  which 
told  with  indirect,  rather  than  direct,  power  on  his 
cliaracter.  It  was  his  fate,  in  common  with  many 
others,   to  come  under  the  fascination  of  the   great 

court    beauty,    the    Bareness    Melanie    von    S . 

Thackeray  used  often  to  describe  her  exti-aordinary 

charms — '  the   kind    old   Hof-Marschall    Yon    S 

(who  had  two  of  the  loveliest  daughters  eyes  ever 
-looked  upon).' *     And  she  could  have  been  no  ordi- 
nary woman  who  had  the  genius  thus  to  evoke,  as  by 
a  spell,  a  poetic  and  ideal  life  in  the  young  minds  sho 

*  Letter  to  O.  U.  Lc-wes  in  the  "  Stoiy  of  tlio  Life  of  Goethe." 


WEIMAR.  49 

attracted  to  her.  With  Norman  she  became  a  kind  of 
romance.  She  touched  his  imagination  rather  than 
his  affections,  and  awakened  a  world  of  aesthetic  feel- 
ings which  long  afterwards  breathed,  like  a  subtle 
essence,  through  the  common  atmosphere  of  his  life. 
When  working  against  vice  and  poverty  in  his  parish 
in  Ayrshire,  during  the  heats  of  the  Disruption  con- 
troversy, amid  prosaic  cares  as  well  as  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  poetry  and  art  and  song,  Melanie  haunted  him 
as  the  sweet  embodiment  of  haj)py  memories,  the 
spirit  of  gracefulness  and  charm  and  culture ;  and 
thus,  for  many  a  day,  the  halo  of  the  old  associations, 
in  which  the  real  Melanie  was  etherealised,  served  to 
cast  a  delicate  light  of  fancy  over  the  rough  details 
of  j)ractical  daily  work. 

When  he  and  Preston  returned  to  Moreby,  IN'orman 
had  become  in  many  ways  a  new  man.  His  views 
were  widened,  his  opinions  matured,  his  human  sym- 
pathies vastly  enriched,  and  while  all  that  was  of  the 
essence  of  his  early  faith  had  become  doubly  precious, 
he  had  gained  increased  catholicity  of  sentiment, 
along  with  knowledge  of  the  world. 


To  A.  Clerk  : — 

WeimAB,  May  30,  1834. 
" .  .  .  .  Let  us  pass  Frankfort ;  half-way  to  this  we 
visited  Eisenach.  The  approach  to  the  town  is  through 
the  loveliest  scenery  of  wooded  and  broken  knolls.  Oil 
the  top  of  the  highest  stands  Wartzburg,  where  Luther 
was  held  in  friendly  captivity  to  brood  over  the  fate  of  his 
country  amidst  the  solitude  of  a  German  forest.  Would 
to  God  there  was   a  second  Luther !      Germany  is  in  a 

VOL.  I.  E 


50  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

most  extraordinary  state.  The  clergyman  here  (Ruhr)  is 
the  head  of  tlie  rationalist  school ;  of  religion  there  is  none, 
and  most  of  the  clergy  merely  follow  it  as  a  power  in  the 
hands  of  the  State.  I  am  credibly  informed  by  competent 
judges  that  ninety-nine  out  of  a  hundred  are  infidels. 
If  you  but  heard  a  rationalist  talk  on  religion  !  I  had  a 
talk  with  one  yesterday.  He  believed  in  Hume  on 
miracles,  and,  moreover,  said  that  he  thought  it  of  no  conse- 
quence for  our  fjiith  in  Scripture  whether  miracles  were  true 
or  not ;  in  short,  he  believed  in  the  Scriptures,  and  yet 
said  they  were  '  pious  frauds.'     Devils  and  all  are  to  be 

saved  at  last  (tell this  for  his  comfort).     If  you  wish 

to  culore  your  own  Church,  country,  and  profession,  come 
abroad.  Here  once  lived  and  died  Goethe,  Schiller,  Herder, 
and  Wioland.  The  souls  of  the  men  still  cast  a  halo  on  the 
town,  brighter  than  most  in  Germany.  There  are  many 
clever  fellows  here  ;  a  splendid  library,  open  free  to  all  ;  a 
glorious  park,  likewise  open,  in  which  the  nightingale 
never  ceases  to  sing.  I  am  in  a  very  nice  fomily.  The  lady 
is  a  countess  by  right,  and  yet  they  have  boarders.  Such  is 
German  society !  They  often  dine  at  the  Grand  Dulse's. 
The  music  glorious.  Every  third  night  an  opera,  witli 
best  boxes  for  two  shillings.  The  Grand  Duke  supports  it, 
and  so  it  is  good.  The  great  amusement  of  the  people  on 
Sunday  is  going  to  gardens  to  take  coffee,  wine,  &c.,  or  to 
play  at  nine- pins  ;  a  band  of  music,  of  course  ;  smoking 
everywhere.  The  postilion  who  drives  the  Eilwagen 
smokes  a  pipe  the  whole  way.  A  man  would  commit 
suicide  were  you  to  deprive  him  of  his  pipe. 

"  The  country  is  a  mighty  field  without  a  hedge.  A 
steeple  here  and  there  surrounded  by  houses  ;  no  farm- 
steadings,  no  gentlemen's  houses;  corn,  rye, 'and  grass; 
ugly  bullocks,  ugly  cows  drawing  ugly  ploughs,  followed 
by  ugly  women  or  men  ;  low,  undulaung  pine  hills. 

"It  is  odd  the  inclination  I  have  here  to  speak  Gaelic. 
Often  have  I  come  out  with  words.  A  German  asked  me 
something,  when  I  answered  plump  outright,  '  Diabhaull 
fhios  agam!'  As  another  instance  of  German  reason,  I 
may  mention  that  my  friend,  Dr.  Weissenborn,  told  me 
gravely  to-day  that  he  believed  matter  in  motion  to  be  the 


WEIMAR.  SI 

same  as  spirit ;  and  that  as  animals  arose  from  our  bodies, 
so  we  may  be  mere  productions  of  the  planets." 


To  hxs  Mother  : — 

Weimar,  June  4,  1834. 

"  Yesterday  happened  to  be  my  birthday — twenty-two 
is  not  to  be  laughed  at ;  it  is  a  good,  whacking  age — '  a 
stoot  lad  at  that  age,  faith !  and  proud  may  you  be  for 
having  such  a  lad  this  day.'  This  evening  last  year  I  was 
at  home  from  Edinburgh.  The  winter  months  are  past ; 
their  effects  are  felt — have  a  substantial  existence,  and 
must  be  felt  for  ever.  A  knowledge  of  the  world  either 
spoils  a  man,  or  makes  him  more  perfect.  I  feel  it  has 
done  me  good  in  a  thousand  ways.  I  have  been  made  to 
look  upon  man  as  inaii.  I  see  mankind  like  so  many  dif- 
ferent birds  in  the  same  atmosphere,  alike  governed  aud 
elevated  by  the  same  feathers.  This  a  clergyman  should 
know ;  to  feel  it  is  invaluable. 

"...  How  are  they  all  at  Mull  and  Morven  ?  ]\Iany 
a  time  I  shut  my  eyes,  and,  while  Avhistling  a  Highland 
tune,  carry  myself  back  to  fishing  at  the  rock  or  walking 
about  the  old  castle  at  Aros  ;  at  other  times  I  am  in  tlie 
glen  or  on  the  hill.  Although  it  is  really  nonsense  (as  I 
believe  there  are  few  periods  in  our  lives  really  happier 
than  others),  I  often  think  those  days  must  have  been 
paradise — I  was  so  perfectly  unshackled  ;  while,  at  the 
same  time,  I  remember  well  my  many  wishes  to  go  abroad. 
Every  person  has  his  ideal.  That  was  mine  ;  a  ,  plain 
Manse  is  my  only  one  now." 

From  his  Mother  : — 

Campsie,  Jiim  "0. 
"  You  ought  not  even  to  witness  the  profanation  of 
the  Sabbath — wherever  you  are.  In  the  first  place,  you  are 
bound  to  set  an  example  to  your  pupil ;  in  the  next  place, 
it  is  the  Christian  Sabbath,  wherever  you  are,  and  to  be 
kept  sacred  in  th  )ught  and  deed  before  the  Lord." 


E  2 


52  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  Scotland  is,  in  sooth,  in  a  strange  state.  But  in  all 
this  '  noise  and  uproar,'  there  are  signs  of  activity  and 
life — that  men  at  least  wish  good,  and  this  is  some- 
thing. I  must  say  I  have  much  confidence  in  the  sound 
sense  and  morality  of  the  people  of  Scotland.  It  is 
absurd  to  measure  them  by  the  turbulent  eftervescence 
of  ranting  radical  town  fools,  who  make  theories  and  speak 
them,  but  do  no  more.  There  is  a  douceness  (to  use  a 
phrase  of  our  own)  about  the  mass  and  staple  bulk  of 
farmers  and  gentlemen  that  Avill  not  i)ermit  violent  and 
bad  changes. 

"  But  how  different  is  the  case  in  Germany  1  There  is 
an  apathy,  a  seeming  total  indifference,  as  to  what  religion 
is  established  by  law.  The  men  of  the  upper  classes  are 
speculators,  and  take  from  Christianity  as  it  suits  their 
separate  tastes.  They  seem  to  have  no  idea  of  obligation. 
True,  the  lower  classes  are  not  so  drunken  as  ours,  just 
because  they  have  nothing  to  drink,  and  their  tastes  lie 
in  other  directions.  Not  one  of  them,  I  believe,  is 
regulated  by  its  moral  tendency.  In  other  vices  they 
are  worse — much  worse.  May  Germany  have  anotlier 
Luther  ! 

"13^/t  July,  Tuesday  night. — I  have  to-day  received 
a  letter  from  my  mother  announcing  that  my  old  and  dear 
friend  Duncan  Cam[)bell  is  dead  '  I  reverence  his  memory. 
He  was  a  friend  worthy  of  the  warmest  attachment  and 
deepest  regard.  We  were  at  school  together.  For  many 
years,  I  may  say,  I  lost  sight  of  him,  until  in  1829,  in  the 
moral  philoso[)hy  class  in  Glasgow,  we  met  as  students.  From 
that  hour  an  intimate  andclose  friendship  commenced,  shared 
with  a  third,  James  Stuart.  We  were  called  '  the  thi-eo 
insc^parables,'  or  '  the  trio.'  That  winter  we  were  literally 
every  day  six  or  seven  hours  out  of  the  twenty-four  iu  one 
another's  company.  k.  more  simple,  amiable,  and  deeply 
delicate  heart  tlujre  never  lived  :  generous,  unsi'lrish,  and 
noble  ;  one  of  the  few  who  retain  in  colU\ge  lite  the  purity 
which  nature  stamps.  He  is  gone  before  me.  His 
memory  is  associated  with  happy   days.      I  am  far  from 


WEIMAR.  53 

his  resting-place,  but  I  need  never  seek  it,  as  I  may  exclaim 
in  the  beautiful  words  of  the  translated  Persian  poet — 

"  Dicebant  mihi  sodales  si  Sepulchruiti  amici  visitarem, 
Curas  meas  aliquantulura  fore  levatas 

Dixi  autem — au  ideo  aliud  prooter  hoc  pectus  habet  Sepul- 
clirum."  * 

"July  17th. — To-day  I  Avalked  with  the  doctor  to  the 
Gottes-acker  (the  churchyard).  I  hate  the  style  of  foreign 
burying-grounds.  The  deeper  feelings  of  our  heart,  and 
especially  grief,  are  far  removed  from  the  rank,  overgrown 
bushes  or  from  the  flowers  that  are  associated  with  neat 
beds  in  a  lady's  garden.  No  ;  simplicity  is  unalterably  con- 
nected with  deep  passion. 

"  Upon  Saturday,  Halley,  the  two  Millers,  Preston, 
and  I,  had  good  fun  on  the  Ettersberge  playing  '  I  spy  ! ' 
and  drinking  Wurtzburg.  Well,  we  enjoyed  ourselves 
much,  and  not  the  less  as  it  reminded  us  all  of  school- 
boy days. 

"  27th  July. — And  now  this  day  on  which  I  write  is  a 
Sabbath  later.  I  have  read  my  Bible,  my  only  good  book. 
I  have  then  read  over  my  letters  again,  as  I  receive  plea- 
sure from  refreshing  my  mind  with  expressions  of  love  and 
affection. 

"  Tell  me,  is  it  weakness  or  childishness  to  have  home 
and  friends  ever  present  to  your  eye  ?  Honestly,  I  think 
I  am  neither  the  one  nor  the  other,  and  yet  at  times  I  feel 
as  if  a  single  change  by  death  would  make  the  world  quite 
different  to  me.  I  am  sometimes  frightened  to  think  upon 
what  a  small  point  in  this  respect  hang  my  pleasure  and  my 
pain.  In  truth,  the  Continent  is  a  horrid  place  for  the 
total  want  of  means — no  good  books,  no  sermons,  no 
church  ;  I  mean  for  me. 

"  I  would  renew  my  confidence  and  trust  in  Him  who 
has  said,  *  Ask  and  ye  shall  receive  ^  I  will  never  leave 
you,  I  will  never  forsake  you.'  The  past  is  still  the 
same." 

*  This  College  friend  was  the  original  from  which  he  drew  the 
character  of  '  Curly '  in  "  The  Old  Lieutenant." 


5+  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


SONNET    CiN    HEARING    OF    COLERIDGE's    DEATH 
(in    WEIMAR). 

Oft  \vx\G  I  watch'd,  in  meditative  mood, 

A  sunbeam  travel  over  liill  and  dale  : 

Now  searching  the  deep  valley,  now  it  fell, 

With  gorgeous  colouring,  on  some  ancient  wood, 

Or  gleam'd  on  mountain  tarn  ;  its  silver  flood 

Bathed  every  cottage  in  the  lowly  vale ; 

1'ho  brook,  once  dark  amidst  the  willows  grey, 

Danced  in  its  beams,  and  beauties,  dimly  seen. 

Were  lighted  into  being  by  that  ray  : 

The  glory  ceas'd  as  if  it  ne'er  had  been, 

But  in  the  heart  it  cannot  pass  away — 

There  it  is  immortal  !     Coleridge,  friend  of  truth, 

Thus  do  I  think  of  thee,  with  feelings  keen 

And  passions  strong,  thou  sunbeam  of  my  youth  1 


To  A.  Clerk  : — 

Weimar,  Odoler  12,  1834. 
"  I  have  just  returned  to  Weimar  after  a  fine  tour.  Look 
at  the  map,  and  draw  your  pencil  from  Weimar  through 
Cobourg,  Nuremberg,  Augsburg,  Munich,  Innsbruck, 
Saltzburg,  Linz,  down  the  Danube  to  Vienna ;  back  to 
Briinn,  Prague,  Dresden,  Leipsic,  Weimar ;  and  you  have 
our  course.  And  you  may  well  suppose  I  saw  much  to 
interest  and  amuse  me.  The  three  Galleries  of  Munich, 
Dresden,  and  Vienna  are  glorious ;  I  feasted  upon  them. 
I  was  there  every  hour,  so  that  many  of  the  greatest  works 
of  art  are  engraved  in  my  memory.  The  Tyrol  is  mag- 
nificent beyond  words  :  the  eye  is  charmed,  and  the  heart 
filled  still  more,  with  an  overflowing  sense  of  the  beautiful. 
In  religion  the  people  there  are  as  yet  in  the  Middle 
Ages.  Fancy  a  sacred  drama  acted  in  one  of  the  love- 
liest scenes  of  nature  before  about  six  thousand  people, 
and  representing  the  Crucifixion  !* 

*  This  must  refer  to  the  Ammergau  Play. 


WEIMAR.  55 

"  Vienna  is  a  strange  place — Greek,  Jew,  and  Gen- 
tile ;  I  know  not  wliicli  is  worst  ;  I  do  not  like  the 
place  ;  fine  music,  good  eating,  fine  sights,  and  a  nasty 
people.  I  hate  Austria — tyranny  and  despotism  !  Slaves 
and  serfs  from  Hungary  and  Moravia  walk  under  the 
nose  of  the  '  Father  '  of  his  people  !  They,  poor  souls,  eat 
and  drink  while  Metternich  picks  their  brains  and  pockets. 
There  is  no  danger  of  revolution  there  !  They  are  ignor- 
ant and  stupid.  You  may  be  sure  I  visited  the  fields 
of  Wagram  and  Aspern.  When  in  Briinn — where  I  staid 
a  week — I  saw  40,000  men  encamped.  A  splendid 
sham  fight  took  place,  lasting  two  days,  with  everything 
like  a  real  battle  except  the  wounds—  taking  of  villages, 
&c. — and  this  upon  the  mighty  field  of  Austerlitz.  Was 
that  not  worth  seeing  ?  And  how  fine,  how  strange, 
in  the  still,  cool  evening,  to  ride  along  that  great  camp 
stretching  over  a  flat  plain  for  tliree  or  four  miles,  the 
watch-fires  scattered  over  it,  and  each  regiment  with  its 
band  playing  such  music  as  I  never  heard ! 

"  At  Prague  I  saw  a  Jewish  synagogue.  It  almost 
made  me  weep.  Such  levity  and  absurdity  I  never  saw.. 
The  spirit  had  fled  J  " 

To  his  MoxnEE: — 

Weimar,  Odoher  28,  1834. 

*  «  45-  % 

I  have  made  my  debut  as  a  courtier !  !  The  court 
days  are  Thursday  and  Sunday.  Every  Sunday  fortnight 
you  are  -.nvited  to  dinner  in  full  court  dress.  Hem  !  I  am 
nervous  on  approaching  the  subject.  I7n2)rimis  a  cocked- 
hat  !  under  it  appeareth  a  full,  rosy,  respectable-looking 
face,  in  which  great  sense,  fiiie  taste,  the  thorough  gentle- 
man, and  a  certain  spice  of  a  something  which  an  acute 
ol)server  would  call  royal,  are  all  exquisitely  blended  !  A 
cravat  of  white  supporteth  the  said  head.  Next  comes  a 
coat  which,  having  the  cut,  has  even  more  of  the  modesty, 
of  the  Quaker  about  it.  The  sword  (! !)  which  dangles  beside 
it,  however,  assures  you  it  is  not  a  Jonathan.  Now,  the 
whole  frame  down   to    the  knees   is  goodly — round  ant] 


56  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

plump.  I  say  to  the  knees,  for  tliere  two  small  bueklos 
mark  tlio  ending  of  tlie  breeches  and  the  commencement 
of  two  handsome  legs  clothed  in  silk  stockings,  l^uckled 
shoes  sui)port  the  whole  figure,  which,  with  the  excej)lion 
of  white  kid-gloves,  is  '  black  as  night,'  The  hour  of 
dinner  is  three  ;  you  sally  forth  to  the  Palace,  gathering, 
in  going,  like  a  snowball,  every  Englishman  in  town.  You 
mo-ve  among  servants  to  the  first  of  a  finely-lighted  suite 
of  rooms.  Ladies  and  gentlemen  are  scattered  about 
chatting  (most  of  the  gentlemen  in  military  uniforms).  You 
mingle  with  the  groups,  bowing  here  and  chatting  there, 
and  every  now  and  then  viewing  yourself  in  one  of  the 
fine  mirrors  which  adorn  the  Avails  {'stoat  lad,  faith!'  *) 
The  rooms  become  more  crowded  ;  a  bustle  is  heard  ;  the 
Grand  Duke  and  his  Duchess  enter,  sliding  along  between 
two  rows  of  people,  who  return  their  bows  and  becks. 
The  Duke  chats  round  the  circle.  If  you  are  to  be 
introduced,  a  lord  or  master-in- waiting  watches  an  oppor- 
tunity and  leads  you  up,  announcing  your  name,  and,  after 
making  your  most  profound  salaam,  a  few  questions 
are  put  as — How  do  you  like  Weimar  ?  How  long  do  you 
intend  staying  ? — and  the  Duke  bows  and  passes  on.  I 
speak  nothing  but  German  at  court.  Is  that  not  bold?  but 
I  get  on  uncommonly  well.  You  are  generally  addressed 
every  time  you  go.  The  dinner  is  very  good  ;  sixty  people 
or  so  sit  down.  You  leave  after  dinner,  and  return  again 
in  the  evening.  There  is  nothing  done  but  conversation, 
though  some  play  cards.  You  may  retire  when  you  like. 
I  do  so  as  soon  as  I  can,  as  this  is  not  the  way  I  like  to 
spend  Sunday  evening.  Every  night  we  have  some  prince 
or  other  ;  the  brother  of  the  King  of  Prussia  was  there  last 
time.  How  much  more  have  I  felt  at  a  small  party 
at  Craigbarnet !  But  thanks  to  these  and  the  worthy 
woman  t  who  gave  them,  that  society  comes  now  so  easy 
to  me. 

*  This  expression  was  one  which  occurred  in  one  of  his  Highland 
stories,  and  was  a  favourito  quotation,  being  always  given  with  the 
full  native  accent. 

t  Mrs.  Stirling,  Craigbarnet,  Cumpsie. 


:  WEI3IAR.  57 

"  If  you  but  heard  that  best  of  men,  the  honest  Doctor, 
and  me  planning  how  to  keep  all  the  young  fellows  in 
order !  and  when  ten  or  so  meet  it  is  no  easy  task.  It 
has,  however,  been  done.  Winter  has  almost  begun,  we 
had  snow  yesterday.  I  have  a  good  stove  and  abundance 
of  wood,  so  with  a  good  easy-chair — called  in  German 
Grossvaterstuhl, — I  am  in  great  comfort.  But  now  this 
throws  me  back  to  '  our  ain  fireside,'  and  then  I  long  to 
be  among  you  all  to  get  my  heart  out,  for  except  on 
paper  it  has  very  little  exercise.  I  am  studying  hard 
— Greek  and  Latin  every  day.  I  read  (this  is  for  my 
father,  as  you  are  not  a  German  blue)  Horace  and 
Cicero  de  Officiis  day  about  with  Preston,  the  Greek 
Testament  every  morning.  Ask  my  father  to  write  to 
me.  He  has  a  '  vast  of  news '  to  tell  me,  about  Church, 
Irish,  and  Gaelic  matters,  all  of  which  give  me  much 
interest. 

"  By-the-bye,  mother,  give  me  your  advice.  Now,  don't 
be  sleepy,  I  am  nearly  done.  What  would  your  well- 
known  economical  head  suggest  as  to — my  court  dress  ? 
First  of  all  ascertain  whether  there  may  not  be  in  some 
of  the  old  family  chests  a  relic  of  the  only  sprig  of  no- 
bility in  your  blood — Maxwell  of  Newark's  sire.  I  think 
old  Aunty  Bax,  if  she  were  bribed  or  searched,  could  turn 
out  an  old  cocked  hat  or  sword.  If  this  scent  fail,  we 
must  try  the  Scandinavian  side.  But  my  idea  is,  all  such 
relics  perished  during  the  Crusades  !  Donald  Gregory  Avould 
give  some  information.  If  no  such  thing  exists,  then 
my  determination  is  fixed,  that  a  room  in  the  Manse  be 
kept  called  the  court-room,  in  which  my  clothes  be  pre- 
served for  my  descendants  :  I  mean — and  have  no  doubt 
by  your  looks  you  have  hit  on  the  same  idea — that 
this  does  not  take  place  until  I  have  worn  them  first  as 
moderator. 

"  I  think  of  taking  drawing  and  singing  lessons  time 
about.  I  think  I  have  a  taste  for  both,  and  my  idea  is 
that  it  is  a  man's  duty  as  well  as  pleasure  to  enlarge 
every  innocent  field  of  enjoyment  which  God  has  put  in 
his  way. 


S8 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


"  Oh  dear,  I  almost  thought  myself  at  home ;  but  the 
stove  is  nearly  out,  and  it  is  still  Dcutschland. 
*'  I  am,  your  rising 


To  his  Mother  :— 

Weimar,  Novemher  19,  1834. 

"  Here  1  sit  on  a  wet,  nasty  evening — Sunday.  All  are 
at  court  but  myself.  A  Sunday  evening  here  is  detestable. 
If  I  can  spend  it  by  myself,  good  and  well  ;  if  not !  No 
church,  no  sermon,  no  quiet,  no  books  but  German." 


To  an  old  Fellow  Student  : — 


Weimar,  Decemher  2,  1834. 


"  I  have  just  received  your  long-wished-for  epistle. 
Within  the  last  half-hour  I  have  speculated  more  upon 
your  condition  (on  what  the  Germans  call  your  Inneres, 
or  inward  being)  than  I  have  ever  done  before.  In  Heaven's 
name,  why  that  doleful  ending  of  a  merry  letter  ?  Can  it 
be  a  joke  ?  '  One  that  was ' — '  tomb.'  This  must  not  be. 
If  you  are  really  ill,  I  grieve  for  you  as  a  dear  friend  ; 
but  if  it  is  but  fancy,  away  with  it  to  the  shades ! 
Look  out  on  nature  in  all  her  simple  glory  ;  feel  your- 
self a  part  and  being  of  the  universe ;  feel  your  own 
eternal  dignity,  that  is  beyond   and  above  all  the  matter 


WEIMAR.  59 

before  which,  alas  !  it  often  bows,  but  to  which  it  owes  on 

allegiance ! 

'  We  receive  but  what  we  give, 
And  in  our  life  alone  does  nature  live : 
Ours  is  her  wedding  garment,  ours  her  shroud  ! ' 

Read  your  Bible,  and,  if  you  want  the  joy,  the  meditative 
joy,  which  finds  religious  meanings  in  the  forms  of  nature, 
read  dear  Coleridge,  or  his  brother  Wordsworth.  But  the 
former  I  love,  I  adore.  Buy  his  works  should  you  have  no 
more  in  the  world  to  spend. 

"This  moment  I  have  read  your  P.S.,  which  I  did  not 
notice.  '  Blood  to  the  head  !'  What  a  setting  sun  your 
face  must  be  !  Did  you  ever  hear  since  the  days  of  Hip- 
pocrates of  a  fellow  of  your  age  and  strength  having  blood 
to  the  head  ?  Why,  man,  I  suppose  you  sometimes  feel 
dizzy  and  get  blind,  and  stagger,  when  you  had  parti- 
cularly simple  biliousness  ;  for  all  these  symptoms  I  have 
had  a  thousand  times,  and  half  killed  myself  thinking 
then  as  you  do  now.  Take  a  great  deal  of  exercise  every 
day;  read  a  few  novels,  and  send  those  blue  devils  to  their 
master." 

From  his  Mother  :— 

Decen^J^er  8,  IBS*. 

"  You  complain  of  want  of  books,  and  a  sad  want  it  is  ; 
but  you  can  meditate  and  pray,  and  set  no  wrong  example  ; 
and  you  have  your  Bible — his  Bible  who,  to  his  last 
moment,  loved  you  with  more  than  a  brother's  love.  It 
will,  I  trust,  be  but  a  secondary  motive  with  you,  but 
I  know  his  image,  as  you  last  parted  from  him,  his  love, 
and  a  recollection  of  his  virtues,  will  ever  rise  up  to 
keep  you  sober  in  pursuit,  and  steady  in  principle.  I 
feel  that  when  I  write  to  you,  dearest,  I  will  not  seem 
tiresome  or  preaching  too  much." 


SONNET. 


The  time  had  been  when  this  bright  earth  and  sky, 
At  dewy  morn,  calm  eve,  or  starry  night, 
Inspired  the  passionate  and  wild  delight 


6o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Which  only  dwell  Avith  lofty  purity 

Of  heart  and  thoiiglit  ;   but  soon  that  lioly  light, 

Which  conies  from  heaven  to  beautify 

The  things  of  sense  departed,  and  deep  night 

Concealed  their  glor}'-  from  the  seeking  eye. 

My  soul  Avas  dinnned  by  all-destroying  sin, 

Which  o'er  my  inner  sense  and  feelings  crept 

Like  frost  at  early  monj.     Still  oft  Avithin 

This  darken'd  heart  a  sudden  gleam,  a  share 

Of  former  joy,  was  mine  ;  and  I  have  Avept, 

And  thought  'tAvas  from  a  distant  mother's  prayer ! 


To  his  Mother: — 

"Weimar,  Dtcember,  1834. 

"  You  knoAV,  mother,  there  are  very  fcAv,  if  any,  upon 
Avhose  good  sense,  in  matters  of  the  Avorld,  I  Avould  rely 
more  than  on  yours.  I  have  seriously  thought  of  all  you 
say  about  my  acquiring  tastes  and  habits  uncongenial  to 
my  future  profession.  To  tell  you  the  honest  truth,  this 
sometimes  does  give  me  pain.  To  battle  against  a  thou- 
sand little  things  Avhich  insidiously  collect  round  your 
mind  like  iron  filings  on  a  magnet,  till  it  is  all  covered,  is 
impossible.  There  is  a  style  of  life  Avhich  has  charms, 
talk  of  it  as  you  please,  and  somehoAV  or  other  it  comes 
quite  naturally  to  me. 

"  But  yet,  on  the  other  hand,  I  trust  I  feel  too  highly 
those  mighty  things  Avhich  constitute  real  greatness, 
whether  found  in  cloAvn  or  king  ;  and  the  grand  position  a 
zealous  clergyman  takes  in  human  society  ;  together  Avith 
the  world  of  knowledge  I  am  now  acquiring  of  human 
character,  and  of  the  ivay  to  maTuige  men — so  that  I  shall 
enter,  under  God's  blessing,  uj^on  the  Avork  Avith  spirit 
and  success,  and  be  above  all  discontent. 

"  Say  to  my  isither,  Avith  my  love,  that  I  have  paid 
jiarticular  attention  to  his  part  of  the  letter.  My  next 
shall  be  to  him  ui)on  German  theology  and  sundry  other 
matters, 

"  As  for  the  girls,  keep  none  of  them  cramped  up  at 
piano  Avith  crooked  backs.     Air  and  liberty  for  the  young, 


WEIMAR.  6? 

and  then  two  hours  or  so  of  hard  earnest  work.  When  I 
have  chiUh'en,  I  shall  certainly  act  on  this  principle  ! 

"  You  predicted  a  great  many  things  about  me  which 
have  turned  out  true,  and  which  make  me  ashamed  of 
the  weakness  of  my  character.  I  leave  Weimar  in  a 
month,  at  the  very  furthest ;  and  the  regret  with  wliich 
I  leave  it  makes  me  blush.  Why  am  I  sorry  ?  Am  I 
not  going  home  to  tliose  who  love  me  more  than  any 
on  earth  ?  I  am  ;  and  this  is  invaluable.  But  still — 
still  there  are  a  thousand  things  which  I  am  destined  for, 
and  which  I  shall  fulfil,  but  to  Avhich  my  last  year's  edu- 
cation has  been  directly  opposed.  Mother,  you  have  taste 
yourself,  so  excuse  my  rant.  When  you  only  remember 
the  beau-ideal  life  I  have  been  leading,  call  me  weak, 
call  me  fool,  but  let  me  speak  it  out,  and,  like  a  great 
ass,  turn  W)  my  poor  nose  against  Scotch  lairds  and  their 
pride,  and  Scotch  preachers  with  their  fanatical  notions.  I 
agree  with  my  fiither  to  a  '  T '  about  them.  And  to  be 
obliged  to  have  my  piety  measured  by  my  reading  a  news- 
paper on  a  Sunday,  or  such  trash  ;   or  by  my  vote  on  this 

side  or  that ;  or  by  my  love  of  music  ;  or Don't  be 

angry,  for  I  am  done,  and  in  better  humour. 

"  I  trust  to  see  you  in  July.  In  the  meantime  I  am 
looking  forward  to  coming  back  here  this  time  next  year. 
Hurrah  for  old  Germany  again  !  Next  to  Scotland  I  love 
her.     I  am  upon  the  qui  vive  for  a  letter  as  to  our  route. 

"  I  long  to  tell  you  all  my  adventures,  and  how  I  fell  in 
love  with  the  beautiful  '  La  Baronne.'  If  you  only  saw  her, 
mother  !  None  of  your  '  blockheads  ! '  You  were  once  in 
love  yourself,  and  I  don't  blame  you,  for  m}^  father  is  a  good- 
looking  man — 'Jine  stoot  7nan,  faith  !'  She  has  made  me  a 
poet ! 

"  How  do  my  poor  crocuses  look  ?  What  happy  feel- 
ings does  the  question  recai  1 — Campsie  long  ago  and  spring 
contentment — home  and  happiness  I  I  have  no  news.  The 
same  routine  of  reading,  balls,  court  concerts,  and  ojieras. 
I  long  to  hear  if  my  father  has  been  made  Moderator.  I 
should  like  to  be  at  the  head  of  everything.  It  is  a  grand 
thing." 


62  LIFE   OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  Db.  Weissenborn  (written  to  N.  after  bis  return  to 
Scotland)  : — 

Weimar,  JuJh,  1833. 
"  You  appear  to  be  a  thoroughly  revised  and  im- 
proved edition  of  yourself.  Happy  man,  whose  feelings  are 
not  alienated  from  his  native  country  and  early  connections 
by  a  residence  abroad,  yet  keeps  a  lively  remembrance  of 
his  friends  there ;  whose  sound  constitution  throws  out 
foreign  peccant  matter,  after  having  assimilated  the  whole- 
some principles.  Don't  smile  if  I  become  a  little  pathetic 
on  the  subject.  I  really  was  afraid  that  your  residence  here 
would  have  an  injurious  effect  on  your  tendencies,  inclina- 
tions, future  plans,  and  prospects  ;  in  short,  your  haj^piness 
and  usefulness  to  your  fellow-creatures.  I  therefore  looked 
forward  towards  your  return  not  as  a  happy  event,  but  as 
one  fraught  with  evil  consequences  and  uneasy  feelings  to 
myself,  the  more  so  because  my  health  is  so  very  bad  and 
fluctuating,  that  I  would  have  felt  all  the  misery  you  might 
fiave  brought  upon  yourself  without  being  able  to  remedy 
or  lessen  it.  You'll  forgive  a  sick  man  if  he  take,  perhaps, 
too  gloomy  a  view  of  things  ;  but  you  may  judge  how  happy 
I  feel  to  find  that  all  my  evil  anticipations  are  dispelled  by 
your  letter.  As  to  the  difference  of  opinion  which  exists 
between  you  and  me  with  respect  to  religion,  I  trust  it 
is  only  formal,  and  I  hoi)e  German  rationalism  has  not 
made  you  a  whit  less  inclined  to  dispense  the  blessings 
of  religion  to  your  future  parishioners  under  those  forms 
which  are  most  suited  to  their  circumstances,  or  most 
likely  to  produce  the  best  practical  results  ;  though  I  am 
convinced  myself  that  we  can't  stem  the  torrent  of  the  age 
so  effectually  here  as  it  may  be  possible  on  your  insulating 
stand  of  old  England.  We  must  first  experience  its 
devastations  before  "wo  can  reap  tue  fruit  of  its  inunda- 
tion." 


CHAPTEK  Y. 

APIUL,    1835 NOVEMBER,    1836. 

WITH  the  exception  of  a  brief  yisit  to  Scotland, 
he  remained  at  Moreby  from  April,  1835, 
when  he  returned  from  the  Continent,  till  October 
of  the  same  year.  He  then  went  to  Glasgow  to  re- 
sume his  theological  studies.  As  his  father  was 
at  that  time  leaving  Campsie  for  his  new  charge 
of  St.  Columba,  Glasgow,  he  lived  with  his  valued 
friend  and  relative,  Mr.  William  Gray,  in  Brandon 
Place.  .He  at  once  devoted  himself  to  hard  study. 
Not  only  do  his  note -books  show  the  extensive  field  of 
reading  he  went  over,  but  his  former  fellow- students 
were  surprised  at  the  rapid  mastery  he  had  obtained 
over  various  branches  of  theological  learning  in  which 
he  had  before  shown  only  a  passing  interest.  For 
although  his  previous  education  had  not  been  favour- 
able to  scholarship  in  the  technical  sense,  yet  from 
this  time  to  his  latest  day  he  cultivated  accurate 
methods,  read  extensively  on  whatever  subjects  he 
was  professionally  occupied  with,  worked  daily  at  his 
Greek  Testament,  and  kept  himself  well  informed  as 
to  the  results  of  modern  criticism.  He  had  the  rare 
faculty  of  rapidly  getting  the   gist  of  a  book,  and 


64  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

without  toiling  over  every  page,  he  seemed  always 
to  grasp  the  salient  points,  and  in  a  marvellously 
short  time  carried  away  all  that  was  worth  knowing. 

In  the  May  of  183G,  his  father  having  been  elected 
Moderator  of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  he  went  to 
Edinburgh,  and  listened  with  great  interest  to  the 
debates  of  an  Assembly,  the  attention  of  which  was 
dii'ected  to  Church  work  rather  than  to  Church  jiolity. 

The  passages  from  his  journals  referring  to  his 
spii'itual  condition,  which  are  given  throughout  this 
memoir,  while  no  more  than  specimens  of  very  copious 
entries,  are  yet  thoroughly  just  representations  of  the 
self-scrutiny  to  which  he  subjected  himself  during  his 
whole  life.  Those  who  knew  him  only  in  society, 
buoyant  and  witty,  overflowing  with  animal  spirits, 
the  very  soul  of  laughter  and  enjoyment,  may  feel 
surprised  at  the  almost  morbid  self-condemnation  and 
excessive  tenderness  of  conscience  which  these  joiu-nals 
display,  still  more  at  the  tone  of  sadness  which  so  fre- 
quently pervades  them.  For  while  such  persons  may 
remember  how  his  merriest  talk  generally  passed 
imperceptibly  into  some  graver  theme — so  naturally, 
indeed,  that  the  listener  could  scarcely  tell  how  it  was 
that  the  conversation  had  changed  its  tone — yet  only 
those  who  knew  him  very  intimately  were  aware  that, 
although  his  outer  life  had  so  much  of  api)arent 
abandon  he  not  only  preserved  a  habit  of  careful 
spiritual  self-culture,  but  was  often  subject  to  great 
mental  depression,  and  Avas  ever  haunted  with  a  con- 
sciousness of  the  solenniity,  if  not  the  sadness,  of  life. 

In  point  of  fact,  much  of  his  self-reproach  arose 
from  the  earnestness  of  the  conflict  which  he  waged 


APRIL,  i%ii— NOVEMBER,  183b.  65 

against  his  own  natural  tendency  to  self-indulgence. 
For  if  on  one  side  he  had  deep  spiritual  affinities  and 
a  will  firmly  resolved  on  the  attainment  of  holiness, 
\\Q  had  on  the  other  a  temperament  to  which  both 
'  the  world  and  the  flesh '  appealed  with  tremendous 
power.  His  abounding  humour  and  geniality  had, 
as  usual,  their  source  in  a  deeply  emotional  region ; 
rendering  him  quickly  susceptible  to  impressions 
from  without,  and  easily  moved  by  what  appealed 
strongly  to  his  tastes.  This  rich  vein  of  human 
feeling  which  constituted  him  many-sided  and  sym- 
pathetic, and  gave  him  so  much  power  over  others, 
laid  him  also  open  to  peculiar  trials  in  his  endeavour 
after  a  close  life  with  God.  Besides,  as  if  to  be 
the  better  fitted  for  dealing  with  others,  there  was 
given  to  him  more  than  the  usual  share  of  the  experi- 
ences of  '  life  ; '  for  he  was  frequently  brought 
strangely  and  closely  into  contact  with  various  forms 
of  evil — subtle  and  fascinating  ;  thus  gaining  an  in- 
sight into  the  ways  of  sin — though,  by  God's  grace, 
he  remained  unscathed  by  its  evil. 

And  not  only  this  self-scrutiny,  but  the  tone 
of  sadness  also  which  pervades  these  journals  must 
sound  strange  from  one  generally  so  buoyant.  The 
tendency  to  reaction  common  to  all  sanguine  na- 
tures, combined  wdth  his  Celtic  blood,  may  perhaps 
have  helped  to  give  it  the  shape  it  so  frequently 
takes,  for  the  way  in  which  he  moralises  even  in 
youth  upon  approaching  age,  and  ever  and  anon 
speaks  of  death,  and  of  the  trausitoriness  of  the  pre- 
sent, is  quite  typical  of  the  temperament  of  the  High- 
landers of  the  Western  Islands.   But  there  was  an  eio- 

VOL.  I.  F 


66  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

mcnt  in  his  own  character  strong  yet  subtle  in  its  in- 
fluence, which  produced  finer  veins  of  mehmcholy.  The 
more  than  chihllike  intensity  with  which  his  :i flections 
chmg  to  persons,  places,  associations,  made  him  dread 
separation,  and  that  very  dread  suggested  all  manner 
of  speculations  as  to  the  future.  He  was  continually 
forecasting  change.  There  was  assuredly  throughout 
this  more  of  a  longing  for  '  the  larger  life  and 
fuller'  than  a  mawkish  bewailing  of  the  vanishing 
ijresent.  Ilis  views  of  the  glorious  purpose  of  G  od  in 
creation  were  from  the  first  healthy  and  hopeful,  and 
became  one  of  the  strongest  points  in  his  creed. 
Nevertheless,  it  served  to  produce  a  side  of  character 
which  was  deeply  solemn,  so  that  when  left  alone 
with  his  own  thoughts  a  kind  of  eerie  sadness  was 
cast  over  his  views  of  life.  The  deep  undertones 
of  death  and  eternity  sounded  constantly  in  his  ear, 
even  when  he  seemed  only  bent  on  amusement.  His 
favoui'ite  quotation  literally  expressed  his  experi- 
ence— 

'  I  hear  the  mighty  -naters  rolling  evermore.' 


From  his  Journal  : — 

"  Morehy,  April  30, 1835. — I  have  at  last  returned  from 
the  Continent  this  morning.  With  how  many  feelings  of  the 
past  do  I  write  it !  I  read  over  many  old  letters  and  jour- 
nals, and  I  felt  the  old  man,  which  I  supposed  one  little 
year  had  crushed,  to  be  as  strong  as  ever.  No,  not  quite 
so  strong  ;  but  still  he  was  there,  and  I  could  recognise 
many  of  his  old  familiar  features.  This  last  year  lias  been 
quite  an  episode  in  my  life  ;  it  does  not  seem  to  chime  in 
with  the  rest  of  the  story,  and  yet  it  is  a  material  and 
iiaportant  part  of  it. 


APRIL,  1835 — NOVEMBER,  1836.  67 

"It  was  a  dream  ;  its  people  were  images  in  a  dream, 
never  seen  before  or  to  be  seen  again.  Everything  was, 
and  flashed  upon  me.     I  am  awake,  and  the  dream  is  past. 

"  Haiues,  Aug.  1 3^/^. — Spent  this  morning  in  fishing,  and, 
after  walking  eight  or  nine  miles,  returned  as  I  went.  I  had, 
however,  for  my  guide  and  companion  a  most  rare  speci- 
men of  a  Yorkshireman.  He  is  the  village  cobbler.  He  and 
his  have  been  here  from  generation  to  generation  ;  and  what 
part  of  the  shire  is  more  secluded  than  Hawes  !  We  spent 
the  time  '  in  chat  and  clatter  ;'  and  with  his  pecuhar  drawl 
and  stories  I  was  much  amused  : — '  Ise  deena  believe  mea- 
sell  what  foaks  sea  like,  boot  t'  wutches  beean  in  'deals  like, 
boot  thea  sea  hoa  there  weas  yance  in  t'  time  ot  t'  wear 
maebea  hoondred  year  and  mear  a  man  wid  ceart  an  harse 
gang  i-oop  bye  t'  Fell  theare,  an  in  t'  ceart  was  a  kist  and 
gooald  ;  an  t'  neame  ot  hoarse  was  Ham.  Soa  t'  driver 
sead,  '  Che  wo  hoop,  Ham.  We  God's  mind  or  noa  oop 
heel  thou  man  gang.'  Soa  t'  heel  opened  like,  and  t'  keest 
fell  een,  and  thear  weas  nought  mear  aboot  eet !  Boot  yance 
seex  parsons  were  tae  conjor  it  oot,  and  toald  t'  wae  or 
'tfoar  leads  we  them  to  say  nout ;  and  soa  they  prayed 
and  prayed  teelt  they  gat  thee  keest  and  youked  t'  harse, 
boot  yan  o'  t'  leads  said — "  Gad  lads  !  wese  geet  eet  yeet." 
When  t'  keest  howped  oop  t'  heel  an'  weas  seen  nea  meer.' 

"  The  cobbler  once  talked  with  a  man  who  had  gone  to 
Kendall  to  see  the  Highlanders  pass  north.  They  had  no 
shoes,  and  looked  miserable  ;  plundering,  but  not  slaying. 
The  landlord  with  whom  he  staid  had  his  shoes  taken  off 
him  thrice  by  successive  parties. 

"Ambleside,  Idth  August. — I  have  to-day  accomplished 
what  I  have  long  sought.  I  have  seen,  talked,  and  spent 
two  or  three  hours  with  Wordsworth.  I  set  off  in  the 
morning  with  a  note  of  introduction  by  myself,  for  myself. 
I  arrived  at  the  door  of  a  sweet,  beautiful  cottage,  and  was 
ushered  into  a  small  parlour  with  a  small  hbrary,  chiefly 
filled  with  books  of  poetry,  among  which  was  a  fine  edition 
of  Dante.  Presently  the  old  man  came  in  in  an  old  brown 
jrreat  coat,  larsfe  straw  hat,  and  umbrella,  and  ushered  me 
into  a  small,  plainly  furnished  parlour.  Here  we  sat  some 
time,    talking  about  Germany,  its  political  state,  and  the 

F   2 


68  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

character  of  its  inhabitants, — of  tlic  Scotcli  Churcli  and  the 
levelling  system,  and  right  of  voting  ;  and  here  he  read 
me  the  note  from  his  last  volume.  We  then  Avent  out 
and  stood  on  the  lovely  green  mound  commanding  views 
of  Rydal  and  Windermere.  There  I  said  to  him  '  We  arc 
sorry  that  you  are  not  a  friend  of  Ossian.'  This  set  him 
a-going,  in  which  he  defended  himself  against  the  charge, 
and  saying  '  that  although  self-praise  was  no  honour,  yet 
he  thought  he  might  say  that  no  man  had  written  more 
feelingly  than  he  in  his  favour.  Not  the  Ossian  of 
McPherson,  w'hich  was  trash,  but  the  spirit  of  Ossian,  was 
glorious  ;  and  this  he  had  maintained.'  He  then  brought 
his  works  and  read  many  passages  in  the  bower  showing 
this.  He  said  that  he  had  more  enemies  in  Scotland  than 
elsewhere ;  that  his  little  volume  could  not  fight  against 
all  the  might  of  a  lonfj-established  Review  —  it  was 
stupidity  or  envy ;-  -but  that  his  book  had  now  got 
greater  circulation  than  they  or  it  ever  had.  His  books 
must  be  studied  to  be  understood — they  were  not  for 
ladies,  to  be  read  lounging  on  a  sofa. 

"  He  said  that  Professor  Wilson  Avas  an  exceedingly 
clever  man,  and  that  it  was  such  a  pity  that  his  talents 
and  energies  were  not  directed  to  one  point.  On  our 
return  to  the  house,  he  said  he  had  suffered  much  distress. 
His  dear  sister  was  dead,  his  daughter  was  lying  ill  Avith 
spine,  and  now  an  old  family  servant  Avas  dying,  '  but  I 
endeavour  to  amuse  myself  as  I  can.' 

"  I  blessed  the  dear  old  man,  came  aAvay  ;  and  he  said  he 
might  Avander  into  my  house  some  day  or  other  in  Scot- 
land. Oh,  hoAV  I  felt  as  I  heard  him  read  in  his  deep 
voice  some  of  his  OAvn  imperishable  verses — the  lovely 
evening — the  glorious  scene — the  poetry  and  the  man  ! 

"  Aug.  2-ith. — I  received  from  home  a  parcel,  and  a 
letter  from  my  father  Avho  is  in  London  about  the  Psalms, 
The  event  Avhich  he  communicates  is  to  me  all  important 
— he  leaves  Campsie  and  goes  to  GlasgoAv.  \\'liat  are 
my  feelings  ?  I  can  hardly  express  them.  It  is  a 
struggle  between  tlie  ideal  and  real !  On  calmly  consider- 
ing it,  I  do  think  that  the  change  is  nuich  for  the  better. 
A  large  family  is  nowhere  in  such  an  advantageous  posi- 


APRIL,  \%ii— NOVEMBER,  1836.  69 

tion  for  every  improvement  and  advancement  as  in  a  town  ; 
which  is  also,  I  beUeve,  more  economical  Yet,  to  leave 
Campsie  !  Spot  of  my  earnest  feelings,  and  of  the  dearest 
associations  of  the  happiest  period  of  my  life !  Gone  is 
the  continued  presence  of  green  fields  and  free  air — gone 
the  identifying  of  every  lovely  spot  with  the  bright 
thoughts  of  youthful  existence. 

"  I  wish  I  could  write  a  series  of  sonnets  entitled 
*  Influences ; '  viz.  :  all  those  projections  which  turn  the 
stream  of  life  out  of  its  course,  bending  it  slightly 
without  giving  it  a  new  direction.  Nothing  makes  a  man 
so  contented  as  an  experience  gathered  from  a  well- 
watched  past.  As  the  beauty  of  the  finest  landscape  is 
sometimes  marred  on  actual  inspection  by  a  nauseous  weed 
at  your  feet,  or  painful  headache,  or  many  little  things 
which  detract  from  a  loveliness  only  fully  felt  in  the 
recollection  when  those  trifles  are  forgotten — so,  our 
chief  happiness  is  too  often  in  recollection  of  the  past,  or 
anticipation  of  the  future.  Now,  it  is  knowing  what  the 
past  really  was,  which  we  now  recal  with  so  much  pleasure, 
and  over  which  there  seems  '  a  light  which  never  was  on  sea 
or  land,'  that  we  are  able  to  estimate  the  amount  of 
happiness  and  value  of  the  present.  And  I  think  he  who 
does  this  will  seldom  be  discontented  ;  for  the  miseries  of 
life  are  few,  and  its  blessings  are  '  new  to  us  every  morning 
and  evening.' 

"  I  have  just  returned  from  a  pleasant  walk,  with  a  lovely 
sunset,  and  the  cushats  weeping  and  wailing  in  the  wood. 

"  Septemhe7'  15th. — The  long-expected  festival-week  is 
past !  I  never  have,  in  my  life,  nor  ever  expect  again  to 
have,  such  a  glorious  treat — I  have  heard  The  Creation.  ^ 

"  I  shall  not  attempt  to  offer  a  criticism  upon  the  music 
which  I  heard  during  the  festival.  Whoever  has  seen 
York  Minster,  may  fancy  the  effect  of  a  grand  chorus  of 
640  performers  before  an  assembled  multitude  of  perhaps 
7,000  people,  with  Braham,  Philipps,  Rubini,  Lablache, 
Grisi,  &c. 

We  had  very  delightful  company  in  the  house — Sir 
Charles  Dolbiac,  (M.P.)'and  daughter;  Milnes  Gaskill,  M.P., 
wife   and  sister-in-law  ;   Miss  Wynn  Smith  ;  Wright,  with 


70  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

his  wifo  and  tlanghter ;  Lady  Sitwell ;  Mr.  and  ^fr...  Xor- 
ton  ;  Mr.  and  Miss  Forbes,  Edinburgh;  Captain  Canijtboll, 
7th  Hussars ;  Lord  Grey.  I  had  the  most  interesting  con- 
versation with  Gaskill,  Wright,  and  Lady  Sitwell. 

"  Gaskill  mentioned  the  following  things: — Peel  does 
not  confide  sufficiently  in  his  own  party,  he  tells  nothing 
to  them  ;  but  if  you  do  make  a  good  speech,  he  will  shake 
you  by  the  hand  and  talk  kindly.  His  difficulties  on  the 
Catholic  question  were  great.  His  principal  adviser  and 
confidential  friend  was  Dr.  Lloyd  of  Oxford.  The  Duke, 
who  looks  at  a  question  of  politics  like  men  in  a  field  of 
battle,  after  two  hours'  conversation,  told  Peel  that  he  had 
agreed.  Peel  knew  there  was  no  use  fighting  in  the  council, 
and  he  determined  to  resign.  He  went  to  Windsor 
to  do  so.  The  King,  who  had  all  the  feelings  of  his  father 
on  the  subject,  remonstrated,  and  asked  Peel  if  he  could 
form  a  Ministry  which  would  resist.  Peel  saw  it  was  im- 
possible. The  King  then  said,  that  what  he  would  not  do 
as  an  individual  he  was  compelling  him  to  do  by  asking  him 
to  change.  Would  he  desert  him  ?  Would  he  leave  the 
onus  on  him  ?  Peel  came  home,  and  for  two  nights  never 
Avent  to  bed.  Wrote  to  his  friend  Dr.  Lloyd  that  he  knew 
that  in  sticking  to  the  King,  from  the  most  loyal  motives, 
he  was  sacrificing  his  political  character,  &c. ;  and  so  he 
passed  it :  and  now  he  would  willingly  change  his  i^iind  ! 

"  Peel's  memory  is  amazing.  '  Can  you  forget  all  this 
trash  ?'  said  he  to  a  friend,  as  a  member  was  speaking.  '  / 
can't;'  and  so  he  never  did,  but  would  recall  words  and 
circumstances  a  year  afterwards. 

"  One  night  Mr.  Gaskill  Avas  at  a  party  at  the  Duke 

of 's  ;  Peel,  Wellington,  and  some  others,  were  playing 

whist ;  Croker  was  learning  t^cart^  at  another  table.  '  Go,' 
said  Peel  to  one  of  his  friends — '  go  and  ask  if  he  ever 
learned  the  game  before.'  '  Never  ! '  said  Croker,  'upon  my 
soul'  *  Well,'  said  Peel  to  his  friend,  who  returned,  '  I'll 
bet,  in  twenty  minutes  by  my  watch,  Croker  tells  his  teacher 
that  he  does  not  know  how  to  play.'  In  jive  minutes  Croker 
was  hoard  saying,  '  Well,  do  you  know,  I  should  not  have 
thought  iluit  the  best  way  of  playing.'  This  was  received 
with  a  roar  of  laughter. 


APRIL,  1835 — NOVEMBER,  1836.  71 

"September  l()th. — 0  God,  I  am  a  weak,  poor,  sinful 
man,  unmindful  of  past  mercies,  and  of  a  hardened  heart. 
Merciful  Father,  I  implore  pardon  from  Thee  for  my  sins, 
and  entreat  the  aid  of  thy  Holy  Spirit,  by  which  alon(3  1 
can  light  the  evil  one.  Hear  me,  for  the  sake  of  the  atoning 
blood  of  thy  dear  Son,  in  whose  eternal  merits  I  trust  alone 
for  salvation. 

"September  28th,  1835, — G.  was  staying  with  ns.  He 
is  the  editor  of  a  periodical  called  The  Churchman,  and 
is  a  most  violent  Episcopalian  of  the  old  school,  as  he 
was  once  as  violent  a  dissenter  of  the  new.  There  are 
few  liberal  Churchmen — very  few ;  and  to  me  nothing 
is  more  absurd  than  the  violence  of  men  professing  tlie 
same  faith  in  all  its  essentials,  and,  in  the  present  state 
of  things,  cutting  one  another's  throats.  England  is 
beginning  to  reform  her  clergy  ;  and  good  morals,  with  a 
sound  Calvinistic  theology,  are  rapidly  gaining  ground. 
I  have  myself  seen  so  much  wickedness  in  manners  and 
opinions  that  my  heart  bows  before  a  good  Christian 
wherever  I  meet  him.  We  had  good  sacred  m.usic  on 
Sunday  evening.  This  may  be  abused  ;  and  then,  jier- 
haps,  it  is  wrong.  But  certainly  to  me  it  is  infinitely 
more  sacred  than  the  chatter  round  a  fireside  on  stufl*  and 
nonsense,  such  as  I  have  frequently  heard.  But  remember 
Paul  and  the  'meats.' 

"  September  29th. — I  had  to-niglit  a  long  argument  Avith 

an  atheist,  Mr.   C .     I  have  known  intimately  many 

strange  thinkers,  from  fanatics  to  atheists.  All  sceptics 
whom  I  have  ever  met  have  been  very  ignorant  of  the 
argument  and  facts  of  the  case.  This  has  been  my  con- 
firmed experience  in  Germany  and  England.  Fanatics  knew 
and  felt  ten  times  more.  Believing  too  much  is  more 
philosophical  than  believing  nothing  at  all, 

"  I  finished  Heine's  '  History  of  Modern  German  Litera- 
ture.' His  German  style  is  beautiful ;  his  remarks  astonish- 
ingly striking,  original,  and  pointed ;  his  character  of  tho 
poetry,  painting,  architecture  of  the  Middle  Ages  admir- 
able. 

"  Sunday,  11th. — This  is  the  last  Sunday  I  shall  spend  in 
Moreby  for  some  time.      How  many  pleasant  ones  have  I 


72  IJFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD 

had  in  tlic  old  church  at  StilHncfflcet,  in  its  antique  pew 
and  oak  scats,  worn  away  by  nuniherloss  generations  !  I 
trust  I  have  seen  enoufjh  of  the  Enfjlish  Cliurch  to  love 
her  capabilities  and  to  admire  her  mode  of  worship ;  and  while 
I  enter  with  heart  into  that  mode  and  form  in  which  I  have 
been  born  and  bred,  I  trust  to  have  for  ever  an  aticction  foT 
the  venerable  Liturgy  and  those  institutions  which  so  well 
accomplish  their  purpose  of  dift'using  the  Gospel  of  Christ 
among  the  nations.  O  Lord,  I  thank  Thee  for  the  many 
peaceful  Sabbaths  which  I  have  enjoyed.  Forgive  their 
much  abuse,  and  still  preserve  my  mind  more  and  more  for 
that  eternal  Sabbath  which  I  ho})e  one  day,  through  the 
blood  of  the  Atonement,  to  spend  with  Thee  in  heaven. 

"  Oci'oher  VMh. — The  last  night  at  j\Ioreby.  How  much 
could  I  now  say  on  my  leaving  this  excellent  family  whom 
I  esteem  so  much  and  highly  !  Mr.  Preston  has  been  as  a 
father.      God  bless  them  all ! 

"  I  thank  Thee,  0  God,  through  Jesus  Christ,  for  all  Thou 
hast  done  for  me  since  I  came  into  this  family.  Lord,  may 
thy  kindness  not  be  thrown  away,  but  may  everything  work 
for  my  good.      Amen,  Amen. 

"  Glasgoiu,  2Srd  Deceviher. — This  day  two  years  ago 
James  died.  I  shall  ever  consider  this  day  as  worthy  of 
my  remembrance,  because  to  me  it  marks  the  most  im- 
portant era  of  my  life.  Amidst  temptations  it  has  warned 
me  ;  in  my  Christian  course  it  has  cheered  me.  In  far 
other  scenes  than  these  I  have  I'cmembered  it  with  solemn 
feelings,  and  I  trust  I  may  never  forget  it  or  the  habits  it 
has  engendered.  The  more  I  see  of  the  world,  the  more  I 
look  upon  the  dear  boy  as  the  purest  being  I  ever  met  with ; 
and  now  I  rejoice  he  is  in  heaven.  Lord,  may  I  never  forget 
that  time. 

"  27^/i;  last  Smulay  o/1835. — I  never  felt  a  greater  zest 
for  study  than  now.  The  truth,  sincerity,  simi^licity,  and 
the  eloquence,  of  the  older  divines  is  a  source  of  much 
pleasure.  I  have  adopted  the  plan  of  keeping  a  note-book 
which  I  call  '  Hints  for  Sermons,'  in  which  I  put  down 
whatever  may  prove  useful  for  my  future  ministrations. 
ITnfortunately  what  is  useful  is  not  nowadays  the  most 
tidcing,    and   we   have   lost    muc'li   of  our   simple-lKai'ted 


APRIL,  183: — NOVEMBER,  18:56.  73 

Christianity.  Our  very  dergy  are  dragging  us  down  to 
lick  tlie  dust,  and  the  influence  of  the  mob  is  makinrr 
our  young  men  a  subservient  set  of  fellows.  I  see 
among  our  better-thinking  clergy  a  strong  episcopalian 
spirit ;  they  are  beginning  to  see  the  use  of  a  set  form  oi' 
worship.  And  who  can  look  at  the  critical,  self-sufficient 
faces  of  the  one-half  of  our  congregations  during  prayers, 
and  the  labour  and  puffing  and  blowing  of  some  aspirant 
to  a  church,  and  not  deplore  the  absence  of  some  set  prayers 
which  would  keep  the  feelings  of  many  right-thinking  Chris- 
tum from  being  hurt  every  Sabbath. 

"January  Qth,  1836. — I  went  down  to  Campbeltown, 
and  I  returned  to-day  with  Scipio  and  George  Beatson. 
What  were  my  feelings  when  I  saw  Campbeltown — aye, 
what  were  they  ?  Almost  what  I  anticipated ; — a  half  break- 
ing up  of  the  ideal.  Gone  was  the  glory  and  the  dream — 
gone  the  old  familiar  faces.  Everything  seemed  changed, 
save  the  old  hills  ;  and  it  was  only  when  I  gazed  on  them 
that  I  felt  a  return  of  the  old  feelings,  glimpses  of  boyhood, 
short  but  beautiful,  that  soon  passed  away,  and  I  felt  I  was 
a  changed  man — how  changed  since  those  days  ! 

"  We  were  gay  to  our  '  hearts'  content :'  a  ball  every  night 
and  breakfasts  every  morning,  with  interludes  of  dinners. 
I  never  received  more  kindness  in  my  life. 

"  Be  honest!  In  Campbeltown  I  forgot  God  altogether. 
If  ever  there  was  a  cold,  forgetful  sinner,  I  am  the  man.  If 
it  was  not  for  my  peculiarly  fortunate  circumstances  of  life 
I  would  have  been  a  thorough-going  sinner.  My  heart  is 
blunt ;  every  time  I  fall  back  I  am  so  much  the  worse — it 
quenches  faith,  resolution,  hope.  Well  may  I  say,  *  Lord 
save  me,  or  I  perish.' 

"  Poor  dear !  I  received  such  a  letter  from  him  in 

ansAver  to  an  earnest  exhortation  to  him  to  change  his  ways. 
The  Lord  bless  him  ! 

"  Is  it  proper  to  endeavour  to  convert  a  man  by  any 
other  but  Christian  motives — prudential  or  moral  ?  I 
think  it  is.  A  hardened  sinner  must  have  motives  addressed 
to  him  which  he  can  feel  and  understand.  Let  this  be  a 
matter  for  thought.      My  mother  denies  its  truth." 


74  T.IFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  A.  Clerk  : — 

10,  Brandon  Place,  Glasgow:  January  13,  1836. 

"  For  once  in  my  life  I  am  working  for  the  class,  writing 
essays  for  a  prize  !  Are  you  not  astonished  ?  Fleming 
gives  out  five  or  six  subjects.  The  first  was  on  the  Mosaic 
account  of  the  Creation  ;  and  I  sent  him  in  one  of  eiglity 
pages  crammed  with  geology,  which  even  '  the  Doctor's ' 
(Sniclair)  most  scientific  conversations  (which  used  to  bore 
you)  were  nothing  to.  Fleming  had  the  good  sense  to 
appreciate  it ;  and  ho  said  privately  to  my  father  that  '  it 
had  more  in  it  than  all  the  others  put  together.'  But  you 
never  saw  such  fellows !  Some  of  them  open  their  goggle  eyes, 
when  I  dare  to  speculate  on  some  of  the  great  doctor'^;  ipse 
dixits.  Think  of  them  the  other  day  !  there  was  a  meeting 
in  the  Hall,  and  M'Gill  in  the  chair,  to  determine  whether 
Blackwood  should  be  kicked  out  of  the  Hall  Library  and 
sent  in  search  of  the  Edinhnrgh  Revieiv,  long  ago  black- 
balled !  Poor  Maga  was  peppered  with  a  whole  volley  of 
anathemas  ;  and  if  it  Avas  not  for  some  fellows  of  sense  who 
were  dotonnined  to  give  old  Christopher  a  lift  on  his  stilts, 
he  would  have  hobbled  down  the  turnpike  stair  to  make 
room  for  a  dripping  Baptist  or  oily-haired  Methodist.  Oh, 
I  hate  cant — I  detest  it,  Clerk,  from  my  '  heart  of  hearts  !' 
There  is  a  manliness  about  true  Christianity,  a  conscious- 
ness of  strength,  whicli  enables  it  to  make  everything  i^s 
own. 

"The  people  .are  becoming  all  in  all.  And  v  bat  are  the 
forthcoming  ministers  ?  The  people's  slaves  or  deceivers. 
It  is,  I  admit,  the  opinion  of  a  young  man  ;  but  I  feel  that 
we  are  going  down  hill — talk,  talk,  talk — big  words — 
popularity — that  god  which  is  worshipped  wherever  a  ehapel 
stands.  This  is  what  I  fear  we  are  coming  to — our  very 
prayers  are  the  subjects  of  display  and  criticism.  I  rejoice 
to  think  there  is  One  who  guides  all  to  good,  that  tlie 
world  on  the  whole  is  ever  advancing  in  the  right,  tlu)ugh 
poor  Scotland  may,  perhaps,  lag  behind  for  a  season." 

During  the  session  of  l8o5-3(j  ii  ootcrio  of  young 
men,  possessed  of  kindred  genius  and  humour,  used  to 


APRIL,  1S35 — NOVEMBER,  1836.  75 

meet  for  the  interchange  of  wit,  and  of  literary  produc- 
tions whose  chief  merit  was  their  absurdity.  Horatio 
M'Culloch,  the  landscape  painter,  and  his  brother  artist, 
MacNee  ;  the  late  Principal  Leitch,  and  his  brother, 
Mr.  John  Leitch,  a  well-known  litterateur  ;  the  Dean 
of  Argyll,  and  his  brother,  Mr.  MacGeorge  ;  M'Nish, 
the  author  of  the  '  Anatomy  of  Drunkenness ; '  and 
Norman  Macleod,  were  the  leading  spirits  of  the 
fraternity.     One  of  the  chief  ties  which  bound  them 

in  fellowship  was  the  presence  of  Dugald  M , 

poet  and   local  celebrity.     M was  not  without 

talent,  and  made  several  creditable  attempts  in  verse  ; 
but  his  extraordinary  self-importance,  his  nncon- 
sciousness  of  ridicule,  and  the  bombastic  character  of 
many  of  his  productions  made  him  a  ready  butt  for 
the  shafts  of  drollery  with  which  the  young  fellows 
who  met  at  those  suppers  were  abundantly  armed.* 
Before  the  year  was  out  they  printed  a  series  of 
squibs  written  for  their  gatherings.  The  volume 
was  entitled,  '  Sparks  of  Promethean  Fire ;  or  Chij)s 
from  the  Thunderbolts  of  Jove,'  and  professed  to  be 
published  at  Stromboli,  for  the  firm  of  Gog,  Magog, 
and  Co. 


*  Once,  at  a  public  dinner,  when  the  toast  of  "the  poets  of  Scot- 
land, coupled  with  the  name  of  Dugald  M "  was  proposed,  in 

terms  which  seemed  to  disparage  the  practical  importance  of  their  art, 
Dugald,  rising  in  great  indignation,  determined  to  give  the  ignoramus 
a  lesson  on  the  grandeur  of  the  offended  muse.  "I  will  tell  the 
gentleman,"  he  shouted,  "  what  poetry  is.  Poetry  is  the  language  of 
the  tempest  when  it  roars  through  the  crashing  forest.  The  waves  of 
ocean  tossing  their  foaming  crests  under  the  lash  of  the  hurricane — 
they,  sir,  speak  in  poetry.  Poetry,  sir !  poetrj'-  was  the  voice  in 
which  the  Almighty  thundered  through  the  awful  peaks  of  Sinai ; 
and  I  myself,  sir,  have  published  five  volumes  of  poetry,  and  the  last, 
in  its  third  edition,  can  be  had  for  the  price  of  five  shillings  and  six- 
pence ! " 


76  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Thoso  poems  were  indirectly  meant  as  caricatures  of 
the  pompous  emptiness,  the  incongruous  magnificence, 
and  tlie  grandiose  scene-painting  of  the  poet  Uugald. 
Hades  and  the  Arctic  Pole,  the  volcanic  fires  and 
sulphurous  craters  of  Etna  and  Hecla,  whales,  mam- 
moths, and  mastodons,  had  therefore  to  lend  their 
aid  in  the  production  of  a  jumble  of  astounding 
nonsense. 

Only  one  specimen  of  the  volumes  has  been  reprinted 
— '  The  Death  of  Space,'  by  Mr.  John  Leitch,  which  was 
engrossed  in  '  lion  Gualtier.'  Norman  Macleod  con- 
tributed four  pieces  — '  The  Eeign  of  Death,'  '  The 
Phantom  Festival,'  ^Professor  Boss's*  Drinking- 
Song,'  and  'Invocation  to  Professor  Boss,  who  Fell 
into  the  Crater  of  Hecla.'     We  give  the  two  last. 


PROFESSOR    BOSSS    DRINKING-SONG. 

Air — '  Bckninzt  niit  Laub  den  licben  vollen  Bccher,' 
or—*  The  Rhine  !  the  Rhine! '  &c.,  &c. 

Drink,  drink  and  swill,  ye  jolly  old  Professors, 

You'll  find  it  royal  stuff, 

You'll  find  it  royal  stutf ; 
What  tlioui^li  tlie  waves  of  ocean  roll  above  us, 

We  do  not  care  a  snuft'  1 

We  do  not  care  a  snutT  1 

*  '  Bosh'  was  the  bj'e-namo  ho  liad  for  \\\^  very  dear  friend,   the 
late  Principal  Luitch,  ono  ot  the  ablest  uud  best  of  men. 


APRIL,  1835 — NOVEMBER,  1836. 

Diodati,  Kant,  Gleim,  Mendelssohn  Swighausen, 

Icli  bin  Ihr  Bruder  Boss  ! 

Ich  bin  Ihr  Bruder  Boss  ! 
Pass  round  the  jorum,  and  with  all  the  honours. 

Drink  to  Commander  Ross  ! 

Drink  to  Commander  Ross  ! 

Ices  I've  ate  in  Paris  at  Tortonl  s  , 

Broiled  chicken  too  in  Wien, 

Broiled  chicken  too  in  Wien  : 
But  who  would  talk  of  such  barbaric  messes. 

Who  our  turns-out  had  seen  ! 

W^ho  our  turns-out  had  seen  ! 

For  here  we  dine  on  Avhales  and  fossil  mammoths, 

With  walrus  for  our  lunch, 

With  walrus  for  our  lunch  ; 
We've  Hecla's  flames  to  warm  our  glass  of  toddy, 

And  ice  to  cool  our  punch  ! 

And  ice  to  cool  our  punch  ! 

See  how  our  smoke  is  curling  up  the  crater ; 

Ho,  spit  and  rouse  its  fires  ! 

Ho,  spit  and  rouse  its  fires  ! 
Hurrah  !  hurrah  !  for  Deutschland's  old  Professors, 

We're  worthy  of  our  sires  ! 

We're  worthy  of  our  sires  ! 


77 


78 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


INVOCATION     TO     PROFESSOR     HOSS,     WHO     FELL     INTO     THE 
CRATER    OF    MOUNT    HECLA, 

OH   what  a  grim  gigantic 
tomb  is  thine, 

Innnortal    Loss !       The    se- 
jnilchres  which  yawn 

For  the  obscure  remains  of 
common  men 

Were    all    unworthy    thee  ! 
Their  narrow  bounds 

Thou  heldest  in  unutterable 
disdain, 

And   souq:htest  for  a  g^rave 
amid  the  vaults 

Of  Iceland's  belching, bellow- 
in  tj,  Sfroanino-  Mount. 

Stupendous    walls  of   flame 
surround  tlicc  now  ; 
Thy  mausoleum  is  a  hell  on  earth, 
Where  spluttering  bursts  of  Pandemoniac  fire 
Shake  their  rude  tongues  against  the  vault  of  heaven, 
And  lick  the  stars,  and  sirge  the  comet's  tail. 

Peace  to  thine  ashes,  Boss  !     Thy  soul  shall  tower, 
Like  an  inflated  Phoenix,  from  the  mouth 
Of  that  infernal  hill  ;   whose  crater  wide, 
Like  a  vast  trumpet,  shall  thy  praises  sound 
What  time  its  ashes  rise  beyond  the  moon, 
And  blind  with  clouds  of  dust  the  mornintr  star. 


And  from  thy  lofty  watch-tower  in  the  sky 

Spitzbergen  thou  shalt  see,  and  Greenland,  where 

The  spermaceti  whale  rolls  floundering  on. 

And  dares  to  combat  the  pugnacious  shark; 

The  morse,  with  teeth  of  steel  and  snout  of  brass. 

The  mighty  kraken,  and  the  ocean  snake. 

The  salamander,  with  its  soul  of  flre, 

The  mamuioth  and  the  mustodon  sublime,  — 


APRIL,  1S35 — NOVEMBER,  1836.  79 

Them  slialt  thou  see,  and  with  tlieir  spirits  tliou 
Shalt  hold  sweet  converse,  as  they  move  along, 
Shaking  the  curdling  deep  with  shaven  tails, 
And  drowninij  Hecla's  thunder  in  their  own. 

And  from  the  mountain's  bosom  thou  shalt  call 
The  swarthy  Vulcan,  and  his  one-eyed  sons-— 
The  Atlantian  Cyclops — to  thine  aid, 
While  thou  assailest  Woden,  Teusco,  Tlior, 
And  all  the  Scandinavian  gods  accursed 
AVho  in  Valhalla  hold  their  dreaded  reiiifn. 
And  Vulcan,  at  thy  bidding,  shall  appear. 
With  Polyphemus  and  his  brethren  vast  ; 
And,  armed  with  Jove's  resistless  thunderbolts, 
And  Hecla's  flames,  the  huge  Monopian  brood 
Shall  rise  with  fury  irresistible 
And  from  their  gory  seats  of  human  skulls 
Hurl  the  grim  tyrants  down  with  muttering  yell ; 
While  thou  ascendest  the  Valhalla  throne 
And  at  the  prostrate  gods  dost  shake  thy  fist ! 

Immortal  Boss  !   while  seas  of  dark  ribbed  ice 

Lock  the  leviathan  in  their  solid  jaws. 

While  the  substantial  firmament  resounds 

With  yells  and  curses  from  the  frozen  tongues 

Of  shipwrecked  mariners,  thy  sceptre  gaunt 

Shall  thunder  on  the  grim  Icelandic  shore, 

And  loose  the  chains  that  fetter  Nature  round ! 

Then,  then  shall  Hecla  sing  aloud  to  thee 

A  dread  volcanic  hymn  ;  his  monstrous  throat, 

In  honour  of  thy  name,  shall  swallow  up 

The  sun,  the  moon,  the  stars  :  all,  save  thy  throne, 

Shall  be  absorbed  in  that  enormous  maw  ; 

And  ghosts  of  mighty  men  shall  crowd  around 

Thine  ample  table  in  Valhalla  spread 

And  feast  with  thee  ;  the  hippopotamus. 

The  whale,  the  shark,  shall  on  thy  table  lie, 

Cooked  to  thy  taste  before  grim  Hecla's  fire  ; 

And  all  shall  eat,  and  chaiuit  thy  name,  and  drink 

Potations  deep  from  Patagonian  skulls. 


8o 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


My  song  is  done  :  Oceans  of  endless  bliss 

Shall  roll  within  thy  kingdom  ;  cataracts 

Of  matchless  eloquence  shall  hymn  thy  praise  ; 

^loimtains  of  mighty  song — mightier  by  far 

Than  Hecla,  where  thine  ashes  lie  entombed, 

Shall  lift  their  heads  beyond  the  top  of  space, 

And  prove  thy  deathless  monuments  of  fame  ; 

While  thou  with  kingly,  bland,  benignant  smile, 

Look'st  down  upon  the  earth's  terra(|ueous  ball, 

And  quell'bt  with  thunder  Neptune's  blustering  mood, 


"  March  2nd. — Strange,  marvellous,  and  unintelligible 
world  !  My  brain  gets  dizzy  when  I  allow  myself  to  retieet 
upon  the  extraordinary  journey  we  are  all  pursuing.  I  heard 
old  Weimar  tunes  upon  the  piano.  Was  it  a  dream  ?  am 
I  here  ?  am  1  the  same  being  ?  What  means  this  spring- 
ing into  existence,  the  joys  and  sorrows,  hai)})inoss  to 
ecstasy,  friendships  formed  and  decaying,  death  at  the  end 
of  all  ?  Are  we  mad  ?  Do  our  souls  inhabit  bodies 
which  are  dying  about  us  ?  Lut  I  write  like  a  fool,  for 
my  heart  is  overHowing  with  thoughts  which  I  cannot 
utter. 

"  12th  March. — Exactly,  Norman.  You  wrote  the  above 
the  other  night  whon  some  old  tunes  roused  up  the  old 
man  which  you  thought  was  dead.     Tell  us  how  he  iloes  ? 

"Saturday,  April  23. — After  studying  to-day  and  yestcr 
day,  1  have  had  an  evening  stroll  down  the  street.      Tho 


APRIL,  1835 — NOVEMBER,  1836  81 

aurorO'  was  bright  and  lovely — now  forming  an  arch  along 
the  sky,  now  shooting  up  like  an  archangel's  sword  over 
the  world,  or  forming  streaming  rays  of  light,  which  the 
soul  of  mortal  might  deem  a  seraph's  crown.  How  strange 
are  the  glimpses  which  we  sometimes  have  of  something 
beyond  the  sense — a  strange  feeling,  flitting  as  the  aurora 
but  as  bright,  of  a  spiritual  world,  with  which  our  souls 
seem  longing  to  mingle,  and,  like  a  bird  wdiich,  from 
infancy  reared  in  a  cage,  has  an  instinctive  love  for  scenes 
more  congenial  to  its  habits,  and  flutters  about  when  it 
sees  green  woods  and  a  summer  sky,  and  droops  its  head 
when  it  feels  they  are  seen  through  the  bars  of  its  prison ! 
But  the  door  shall  yet  be  opened,  and  the  songs  it  has 
learnt  in  confinement  shall  yet  be  heard  in  the  sunny  sky  ; 
and  it  shall  be  joined  by  a  thousand  other  birds,  and  a 
harmonious  song  will  rise  on  high ! 

"  Oh,  if  we  could  but  keep  the  purity  of  the  soul  !  but 
sense  is  the  giant  which  fetters  us  and  gains  the  victory. 
We  have  dim  perceptions  of  the  pure  and  elevated  spiritual 
world.      We  truly  walk  by  sight,  and  not  by  faith. 

"  Mere  descriptive  poets  may  be  compared  to  those 
who  have  shrewdness  enough  to  copy  the  best  sets  of 
hieroglyphics,  but  who  have  not  skill  enough  to  give 
to  them  more  than  a  partial  interpretation.  They 
decipher  enough  to  know  that  the  writing  has  much  fine 
meaning,  w-hich,  as  it  pleases  themselves,  may  also  give 
pleasure  to  others.  The  reflective  poet  is  one  who  de- 
ciphers the  writing  which  he  copies,  appropriates  its  truth 
to  himself,  and  makes  it  a  part  of  his  own  existence ;  and 
when  he  gives  it  to  the  world  he  adds  to  it  his  own  glorious 
comments  and  illustrations,  and  thus  makes  others  feel 
like  himself  And  yet  the  highest  and  brightest  world  in 
w^hich  the  poet  exists  cannot  be  shown  to  another.  It 
is  incommunicable.  If  in  his  spirit  he  reaches  the  high 
peaks  of  the  Himalaya,  he  can  bring  none  there  with  him  ; 
and  should  he  know  there  are  others  there,  the  rarity  of 
the  air  prevents  any  communic  ition. 

"June  Qth,  Gotirock. — My  journal  has  been  sadly 
neglected,  and  that  too  at  a  time  when  sunshine  and  cloud 
have  not  been  unfrequent  in  my  trivial  history. 

VOL.    I.  G 


82  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  I  fiiiislicd  my  college  labours  by  getting  the  essay 
prize  —  not  much,  in  truth ;  but  I  shall  not  venture  to 
.express  my  little  opinion  of  prizes.  They  a  test  of  talent 
or  labour — bah !  Last  winter  was,  however,  a  useful  one 
to  me.  How  different  from  the  one  before — hardly  an 
ounce  of  the  ideal,  and  a  ton  of  the  real. 

"  After  1st  ot  May  I  came  down  here,  where  I  staid  for 
a  short  time,  until  I  went  to  the  Assembly  on  the  1 6  th,  when 
my  father  was  Moderator.  When  I  think  of  that  fortnight, 
my  head  is  filled  Avith  a  confused  mass  of  speeches,  dinners, 
suppers,  breakfasts,  crowded  houses,  familiar  faces,  old 
acquaintances,  and  all  that  makes  an  Assembly  interesting 
and  tiresome  to  one  who  is  in  the  middle  of  the  bustle.  I 
became  acquainted  Avith  a  great  many  people — the  most 
interesting  was  Dr.  Cooke,  of  Belfast — a  splendid  man,  who 
I  think  beats  Chalmers  in  thinking,  and  equals  him  in  genius. 
The  concluding  scene  of  the  Assembly  is  the  finest  thing  I 
ever  saAv — the  Avhole  clergy  and  people  singing  a  psalm, 
and  praying  for  the  peace  of  Jerusalem  !  Grieved  on  my 
return  to  find  poor  Mary  so  unAvell :  for  my  OAvn  part,  I 
have  little  hope. 

"  To-morrow  I  start  for  the  Highlands,  intending,  God 
Avilling,  to  return  in  a  month.  Into  Thy  hands  I  commit 
myself. 

"  Fiunary,  Sth. — Tlie  name,  AA-hich  stares  me  in  the  face, 
alone  convinces  me  that  I  am  here.  Against  this  I  have  a 
thousand  melancholy  feelings  to  persuade  me  that  I  am 
not.  Yes,  it  is  so  :  for  the  first  time  in  my  life,  I  have 
walked  up  the  *  brae  face '  without  a  smile  upon  my  face. 
The  jDast  Avas  too  vividly  present — Avhen  a  revered  old  man 
was  blessed  in  his  old  age  by  a  large  and  dear  family — 
Avhen  my  OAvn  days,  young  though  I  be,  Avere  yet  '  clothed 
in  no  earthly  light,'  and  had  all  the  '  glory  of  a  dream,'  and 
myself  the  object  of  'kind  Avords,  kind  looks,  and  tender 
greetings.' 

"  It  is  a  solemn  thing  Avhen  the  faces  and  voices  of  the 
lost  and  gone  are  vividly  recalled — Avhen  chambers  are 
again  peopled  by  their  former  inmates — and  Avhen  }'0U  start 
to  find  it  all  a  dream  ; — that  Avhat  Avas  life  is  now  death  ! 

"  We,  too,  are  passing  on  !    Can  I  forget  this  here  ?    Oh, 


APRIL,  1835 — NOVEMBER,  1836.  83 

may  I  be  enabled,  in  much  weakness  and  sin,  still  to  fight 
so  as  to  gain  the  prized 

''Portree,  2\st  June. — I  have  been  reading  for  threo 
days  back  Coleridge's  '  Table  Talk,'  and  Byron. 

"  What  a  contrast  is  there  between  the  two  !  I  pretend 
not  to  fathom  Byron's  character  :  it  has  puzzled  wiser  heads 
than  mine.  But  how  different  were  these  men,  as  far  as 
their  characters  can  be  gathered  from  their  conversation ! 
Coleridge  ever  struggling  after  truth  ;  diving  into  every 
science,  and  discovering  affinities  between  them ;  holding 
communion  ever  Avith  ideas  and  principles,  and  caring 
for  things  only  as  they  led  to  these  ;  and,  as  a  consequence 
from  this  pursuit  and  love  of  truth,  a  humble  believing 
disci]3le  of  Christ.  Byron  viewing  everything  through 
his  own  egotism  ;  selfish  in  the  extreme  ;  anxious  to  be 
the  man  of  fashion,  and  '  receiving  his  inspiration  from  gin 
and  water  ;'  laughing  at  England  and  admiring  Greece  ; 
doubting  Scripture  and  admiring  Shelley.  Coleridge  wish- 
ing to  publish  his  philosophy  for  the  glory  of  God  and  the 
good  of  men  ;  Byron  writing  his  poetry  '  to  please  the 
women.'  In  short,  I  believe  Byron's  fame  is  on  the  decline. 
His  literature  has  never  sent  a  man  a  mile  on  in  the  mighty 
pursuit  after  truth.  Coleridge  must  live  and  be  beloved 
by  all  who  study  him.      He  was  a  truly  noble  fellow  ! 

-<f  %  ■SS'  rk  -J? 

"  A  man's  charity  to  those  who  differ  from  him  upon 
great  and  difficult  questions  will  be  in  the  ratio  of  his  own 
knowledge  of  them  :  the  more  knowledge,  the  more  charity. 

"  The  difference  in  height  between  the  Scotch  and  Swiss 
mountains  is  compensated  for  by  the  ever-changing  shape  , 
of  the  former,  arising  from  their  lowness. 

'■'Portree,  Skye,  August,  1886. — Early  in  the  month  of 
July  I  went  with  Professor  Forbes  to  Quirang  and  the 
north  end  of  Skye.  My  next  trip  was  to  Storr,  the  finest 
thing  I  ever  saw.  The  day  promised  well  as  we  ascended, 
but  when  near  the  top  thick  mist  suddenly  came  on,  which 
prevented  us  from  seeing  a  yard  in  front.  We,  however, 
against  hope,  climbed  to  the  summit.  When  we  arrived, 
the  mist,  in  a  thousand  graceful  columns,  cleared  away, 

G  2 


84  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

and  a  thick,  black  curtain,  which  concealed  the  conntry 
from  our  view,  slowly  rose  and  presented  to  lis  a  panorama 
such  as  might  put  all  Europe  to  shame.  Beneath  us  lay 
Skye,  with  its  thousand  sea  lochs,  bounded  to  the  south 
by  the  jagged  Coolins,  between  which  we  got  peeps 
of  the  distant  sea.  On  every  other  side  was  water  calm 
as  glass,  specked  ])y  ships  in  sunshine,  sailing  far  away. 
Along  the  mainland,  from  Cape  Wrath  to  Kyle  Rhea,  was  a 
vast  chains  of  hills,  seen  under  every  variety  of  light  and 
shade,  while  distant  mountain  tops  appeared  marching 
towards  Ar(hiamurchan.  To  the  west  lay  the  Lewis  at  full 
length  :  a  gorgeous  canopy  of  clouds  was  piled  over  it. 
Rays  of  silver  liglit  fell  at  once  on  the  ]\Iinch  and  on  the 
far-distant  horizon  beyond  Uist,  where  no  land  breaks  the 
vista  to  America.  The  precipice  is  a  thousand  feet  high  :  a 
stone  took  nine  seconds  to  reach  the  bottom.  In  fine,  a 
large  whale  was  spouting  in  the  sea  below  us  after  a 
herring  shoal. 

"  3r(?  Sej^temher. — The  feeling  at  present  next  to  my 
heart  is  the  state  of  poor  dear  Mary.  Her  hour,  I  see,  is 
not  far  distant.  She  knows  this  herself:  she  expressed  her 
fears  perfectly  calmly  to  my  mother,  and  was  thankful  that 
she  had  got  so  long  a  time  to  prepare.  Her  j^atience  is 
amazing.  Oh,  may  God  her  Father,  and  Christ  her 
Saviour,  grant  her  peace  and  rest ! 

"  I  want  steadiness.  O  God,  give  me  consistency  in 
words,  in  thoughts  ;  in  company  ;  in  private  !  May  1  in 
everything  see  what  Th}'^  law  demands,  and  may  I  receive 
strength  to  obey  it. 

"  My  mother  and  aunt  have  both  told  me,  in  strong 
language,  that  I  am  most  irritable  in  my  temper,  and  very 
unpleasant.  My  mother  told  me  more  than  this,  which 
there  is  no  use  putting  down. 

"  I  feel  she  is  wrong.  I  am  grieved  for  this  because  it 
is  unchristian  ;  therefore,  under  the  strength  of  God,  feel 
anxious  and  resolved  to — 1.  Be  always  calm  and  collected, 
and  never  talk  imi)etuously,  and  aft  if  out  of  temper.  2.  To 
give  greater  deference  to  my  mother  ;  to  stop  arguing  with 
her  ;  and,  however  much  she  mistakes  my  feelings,  still  to 
act  as  I  shall  one  day  answer. 


APRIL,  183s — NOVEMBER,  1836.  85 

*'  This  I  wish  to  do  under  God's  guidance. 

"  Clerk,  MacConochie,  and  Nairne,  have  come  as  boarders. 
They  are,  I  think,  three  as  fine  lads  as  ever  I  saw.  Enable 
me,  O  God,  to  remember  that  I  am  responsible  for  sowing 
all  the  Gospel  seed  I  can  in  their  minds.     Amen. 

"  I  am  making  slow  progress  ;  I  am  sadly  behind.  What 
signifies  talk  if  the  actions  be  awanting  ? 

"  November  ^vd. — I  was  this  morning  called  up  at  five 
to  go  for  the  doctor  for  dear  ]\farv.  She  was  in  great 
agony,  such  as  I  never  saw  before,  llie  doctor  gave  her 
relief ;  and  she  gently  fell  asleep  in  Christ  at  half-past 
nine  o'clock. 

"  November  9th. — It  is  all  over  :  Ave  buried  Mary  to-day 
beside  James.  They  both  lie  near  the  home  where  they 
spent  many  happy  days ;  and  we  laid  them  down,  thank 
God,  in  full  faith  and  assurance  of  a  blessed  resurrection  ! 

"  I  have  only  to  pray  God  Almighty,  through  Jesus 
Christ,  that  I  may  not  only  persevere  myself,  but  induce 
others  to  persevere,  in  the  same  Christian  course,  that 
'where  they  are  we  may  be  also !'" 


CnAPTER  YI. 

1836—7. 

AT  this  time  the  University  of  Glasgow  attra(3ted 
an  unusual  number  of  students  from  the  east  of 
Scotland.  This  was  partly  owing  to  the  brilliant 
teaching  of  Sir  Daniel  Sandford,  and  of  the  late  Pro- 
fessor Ramsay,  and  partly  to  the  wider  influence 
"Nvhich  the  Snell  exhibitions  to  Oxford  were  beginning 
to  exercise.  IN'orman's  father,  determining  to  take  ad- 
vantage of  this  movement  for  the  increase  of  his  very 
limited  income,  arranged  for  the  reception  of  one  or 
two  young  men  as  boarders,  whose  parents  were 
friends  of  his  own.  He  had  in  this  way  residing  in 
his  house  during  the  winter  of  1836-7  William 
Clerk,  son  of  Sir  George  Clerk,  of  Penicuick,  Henry 
MacConochie,  son  of  Lord  Meadowbank.  and  James 
Nairne,  from  Edinburgh.  John  C.  Shairp,  son  of 
Major  Shairp,  of  Houstoun,  now  Principal  of  the 
United  College  in  the  University  of  St.  Andrews,  was 
in  like  manner  boarded  with  Norman's  aunts;  but 
although  residing  under  a  different  roof,  he  was  in 
every  other  respect  one  of  the  party.  Principal 
Shairp  gives  the  following  interesting  reminiscences 
of  the  time  : — 


1836 — 7-  87 

"  Korman  was  then  a  young  divinity  student  and 
had  nearly  completed  his  course  in  Glasgow  College. 
To  him  his  father  committed  the  entire  care  of  tlic 
three  young  men  who  lived  in  his  .house,  and  it  was 
arranged  that  I,  living  with  his  aunts,  should  be  added 
as  a  fourth  charge.  This  I  look  back  to  as  one  of  tlio 
happiest  things  that  befell  me  during  all  my  early  life. 
ISTorman  was  then  in  the  very  hey-day  of  hope,  energy, 
and  young  genius.  There  was  not  a  fine  quality 
which  he  afterwards  displayed  which  did  not  then 
make  itself  seen  and  felt  by  his  friends,  and  that 
youthfulness  of  spirit,  which  was  to  the  last  so  de- 
lightful, had  a  peculiar  charm  then,  when  it  was  set 
off  by  all  the  personal  attractions  of  two  or  three-and- 
twenty. 

"  His  training  had  not  been  nlerely  the  ordinary  one 
of  a  lad  from  a  Scotch  Manse,  who  has  attended  classes 
in  Glasgow  and  Edinburgh  Universities.  His  broad 
and  sympathetic  spirit  had  a  far  richer  background 
to  draw  upon.  It  was  Morven  and  the  Sound  of 
Mull,  the  legends  of  Skye  and  Dunvegan,  and  the 
shore  of  Kintyre,  that  had  dyed  the  first  and  inmost 
feelings  of  childhood  with  their  deep  colouring. 
Then  as  boyhood  passed  into  manhood,  came  his 
sojourn  among  Yorkshire  squires,  his  visit  to  Ger- 
many, and  all  the  stimulating  society  of  Weimar,  on 
which  still  rested  the  spirit  of  the  lately-departed 
Goethe.  All  these  things,  so  unlike  the  common- 
place experience  of  many,  had  added  to  his  nature 
a  variety  and  compass  which  seemed  wonderful,  com- 
pared with  that  of  most  young  men  around  him. 
Child  of  nature   as   he  was,    this  variety  of   expe- 


88  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

rienoe  had  stimulated  and  enlarged  nature  in  him,  not 
overlaid  it. 

"  There  were  many  bonds  of  sympathy  between  ns 
to  begin  with.  First,  there  was  his  purely  Highland 
and  Celtic  blood  and  up-bringing ;  and  I,  both  from 
my  mother's  and  paternal  grandmother's  side,  had 
Celtic  blood.  The  shores  of  Argyllshu-e  were  common 
ground  to  us.  The  same  places  and  the  same  people — 
many  of  them — were  familiar  to  his  childhood  and  to 
mine.  And  he  and  his  father  and  mother  used  to 
stimulate  my  love  for  that  western  land  by  endless 
stones,  legends,  histories,  jests,  allusions,  brought 
from  thence.  It  was  to  him,  as  to  me,  the  region 
of  poetry,  of  romance,  adventure,  mystery,  gladness, 
and  sadness  infinite.  Here  was  a  great  background 
of  common  interest  which  made  us  feel  as  old  friends 
at  first  sight.  Indeed,  I  never  remember  the  time 
when  I  felt  the  least  a  stranger  to  Norman.  Se- 
condly, besides  this,  I  soon  found  that  our  likings 
for  the  poets  were  the  same.  Especially  were  we  at 
one  in  our  common  devotion  to  one,  to  us  the  chief 
of  poets. 

"  I  well  remember  those  first  evenings  we  used  to 
spend  together  in  Glasgow.  I  went  to  No.  9,  Bath 
Street — oftencr  Norman  would  come  over  to  my  room 
to  look  after  my  studies.  I  was  attending  Professor 
Buchanan's  class — '  Bob,'  as  we  then  irreverently 
called  him — and  Norman  came  to  see  how  I  had  taken 
my  logic  notes  and  prepared  my  essay,  or  other  work 
for  next  day.  After  a  short  time  spent  in  hiking  over 
the  notes  of  lecture,  or  the  essay,  Norman  would  say, 
*  I  sec  vou  understand  all  about  it ;  come,,  let's  turn 


1836—7.  89 

to  Billy.'  That  was  his  familiar  name  for  Words- 
worth, the  poet  of  his  soul. 

"Before  coming  to  Glasgow  I  had  come  upon  Words- 
worth, and  in  large  measure  taken  him  to  heart. 
Norman  had  for  some  years  done  the  same.  Our 
sympathy  in  this  became  an  immense  bond  of  union. 
The  admiration  and  study  of  Wordsworth  were  not 
then  what  they  afterwards  became — a  part  of  the 
discipline  of  every  educated  man.  Those  who  really 
cared  for  him  in  Scotland  might,  I  believe,  have  then 
been  counted  by  units.  Not  a  professor  in  Glasgow 
University  at  that  time  ever  alluded  to  him.  Those, 
therefore,  who  read  him  in  solitude,  if  they  met 
another  to  whom  they  could  open  their  mind  on  the 
subject,  were  bound  to  each  other  by^a  very  inward 
chord  of  sympathy.  I  wish  I  could  recall  what  we 
then  felt  as  on  those  evenings  we  read  or  chaunted 
the  great  lines  we  already  knew,  or  shouted  for  joy 
at  coming  on  some  new  passage  which  was  a  delight- 
ful surprise.  Often  as  we  walked  out  on  winter 
nights  to  college  for  some  meeting  of  the  Peel  Club, 
or  other  excitement,  he  would  look  up  into  the  clear 
moonlight  and  repeat — 

'  The  moon  doth  with  delight 
Look  round  her  when  the  heavens  are  bare ; 
Waters  on  a  starry  night 
Ai-e  beautiful  and  fair.' 

Numbers  of  the  finest  passages  we  had  by  heart,  and 
would  repeat  to  each  other  endlessly.  I  verily  be- 
lieve that  Wordsworth  did  more  for  Norman,  pene- 
trated more  deeply  and  vitally  into  him,  purifying 
and   elevating    his   thoughts    and    feelings     at   their 


90  LIFE   OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

fountaiii-licad,  than  any  other  voice  of  uninspired  man, 
living  or  dead.  Second  only  to  Wordsworth,  Coleridge 
was,  of  modern  poets,  our  great  favourite.  Those 
poems  of  his,  and  special  passages,  which  have  since 
become  familiar  to  all,  were  then  little  known  in 
Scotland,  and  had  to  us  all  the  charm  of  a  neA\ly 
discovered  country.  We  began  then,  too,  to  have 
dealings  with  his  philosophy,  which  we  found  much 
more  to  our  mind  than  the  authorities  then  in  vogue 
in  Glasgow  College — the  prosaic  Reid  and  the  long- 
winded  Thomas  iJrown. . 

"  Long  years  afterwards,  whenever  I  took  up  a 
Scotch  newspaper,  if  my  eye  fell  on  a  quotation 
from  Wordsworth  or  Coleridge,  '  Here's  Norman '  I 
would  say,  and  on  looking  more  carefully,  I  would 
be  sure  to  find  that  it  was  he — quoting  in  one  of  his 
speeches  some  of  the  favourite  lines  of  Glasgow  days. 
Norman  was  not  much  of  a  classical  scholar  ;  Homer, 
Virgil,  and  the  rest,  were  not  much  to  him.  But  I 
often  thought  that  if  he  had  known  them  ever  so  well, 
in  a  scholarly  way,  they  never  would  have  done  for 
hiniAvhat  Wordsworth  did,  would  never  have  so  entered 
into  his  secret  being  and  become  a  part  of  his  very  self. 
Besides  Wordsworth  and  Coleridge,  there  were  two 
other  poets  who  were  continually  on  his  lips.  Goethe 
was  then  much  to  him  ;  for  he  was  bound  up  in  all 
his  recent  Weimar  reminiscences ;  but  I  think  that, 
as  life  went  on,  Goethe,  with  his  artistic  isolation, 
grew  less  and  less  to  him.  Sliakes})ear,  on  the  other 
hand,  then  was,  and  always  continued  to  be,  an 
unfailing  resource.  Many  of  the  characters  he  used 
to  read  and  dilate  upon  with  wonderfully  realising 


1836 — 7-  91 

power.  Falstaff  was  especially  dear  to  him.  He 
read  FalstafPs  speeches,  or  rather,  acted  them,  as  I 
have  never  heard  any  other  man  do.  He  entered  into 
the  very  heart  of  the  character,  and  rej)roduced  the 
fat  old  man's  humour  to  the  very  life. 

"These  early  sympathies,  no  doubt,  made  our  friend- 
ship more  rapid  and  deej).  But  it  did  not  need  any 
such  bonds  to  make  a  young  man  take  at  once  to 
Norman.  To  see  him,  hear  him,  converse  with  him,  was 
enough.  He  was  then  overflowing  with  generous, 
ardent,  contagious  impulse.  Brimful  of  imagination, 
sympathy,  buoyancy,  humour,  drollery,  and  aff'ection- 
ateness,  I  never  knew  any  one  who  contained  in  himself 
so  large  and  varied  an  armful  of  the  humanities. 
Himself  a  very  child  of  Nature,  he  touched  Nature 
and  human  life  at  every  point.  There  was  nothing 
human  that  was  without  interest  for  him ;  nothing 
great  or  noble  to  which  his  heart  did  not  leap  up 
instinctively.  In  those  days,  what  Hazlitt  says  of 
Coleridge  was  true  of  him,  '  He  talked  on  for  ever, 
and  you  wished  to  hear  him  talk  on  for  ever.'  Since 
that  day  I  have  met  and  known  intimately  a  good 
many  men  more  or  less  remarkable  and  original.  Some 
of  them  were  stronger  on  this  one  side,  some  on  that, 
than  Norman ;  but  not  one  of  all  contained  in  himself 
such  a  variety  of  gifts  and  qualities,  such  elasticity, 
such  boundless  fertility  of  pure  nature,  apart  from 
all  he  got  from  books  or  culture. 

"  On  his  intellectual  side,  imagination  and  humour 
were  his  strongest  qualities,  both  of  them  working  on 
a  broad  base  of  strong  common  sense  and  knowledge 
of  human   nature.     On   the   moral    side,   sympathy, 


92  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

intense  sympathy,-  with  all  humanity  was  the  most 
manifest,  with  a  fine  aspiration  that  hated  the  raeaa 
and  the  selfish,  and  went  out  to  whatever  things  were 
most  worthy  of  a  man's  love.  Deep  aff'ectionatencss 
to  family  and  friends — afi'ection  that  could  not  bear 
coldness  or  stiff  reserve,  but  longed  to  love  and  to  be 
loved,  and  if  there  was  in  it  a  touch  of  the  old  High- 
land clannishness,  one  did  not  like  it  the  less  for  that. 

"His  appearance  as  he  then  was  is  somewhat  difficult 
to  recall,  as  the  image  of  it  mingles  with  what  ]ie  was 
when  we  last  saw  his  face,  worn  and  lined  with  care, 
labour,  and  sickness.  He  Avas  stout  for  a  man 
so  young,  or  rather  I  should  say  only  robust,  yet 
vigorous  and  active  in  figure.  His  face  as  full  of 
meaning  as  any  face  I  ever  looked  on,  with  a  fine 
health  in  his  cheeks,  as  of  the  heather  bloom ;  his 
broad,  not  high,  brow  smooth  without  a  wrinkle,  and 
his  mouth  firm  and  expressive,  without  those  lines 
and  wreaths  it  afterwards  had :  his  dark  brown, 
glossy  hair  in  masses  over  his  brow.  Altogether  he 
was,  though  not  so  handsome  a  man  as  his  father  at 
his  age  must  have  been,  yet  a  face  and  figure  as 
expressive  of  genius,  strength,  and  buoyancy  as  I  ever 
looked  upon.  Boundless  healthfulness  and  hopeful- 
ness looked  out  from  every  feature. 

"  It  was  only  a  few  weeks  after  my  first  meeting 
with  Norman  that  he,  while  still  a  student,  made  liis 
first  public  appearance.  This  was  at  the  famous  Peel 
Banquet  held  in  Glasgow  in  January,  1837. 

"The  students  of  the  Universit}',  after  rejecting  Sir 
Walter  Scott,  and  choosing  a  suctcession  of  Whig 
Rectors   had  now,  very  much  througli  Norman's  in- 


1836 — 7-  93 

fluence,  been  brought  to  a  better  mind,  and  had  elected 
the  great  Conservative  leader.  He  came  down  and 
gave  his  well-known  address  to  the  students  in  the  Hall 
of  the  now  vanished  college.  But  more  memorable 
still  was  the  speech  which  he  delivered  at  the  Banquet 
given  to  him  by  the  citizens  of  Glasgow  and  the  in- 
habitants of  the  west  of  Scotland.  It  was  a  great 
gathering.  I  know  not  if  any  gathering  equal  to  it 
has  since  taken  place  in  Glasgow.  It  marked  the 
rallying  of  the  Conservative  party  after  their  discom- 
fiture by  the  Eeform  Bill  of  1832. 

"  Peel,  in  a  speech  of  between  two  and  three 
hours'  length,  expounded,  not  only  to  Glasgow,  but  to 
the  empire,  his  whole  view  of  the  political  situation 
and  his  own  future  policy.  It  was  a  memorable 
speech,  I  believe,  though  I  was  too  much  of  a  boy 
either  to  know  or  care  much  about  it.  Many  other 
good  speeches  were  that  night  delivered,  and  among 
them  a  very  felicitous  acknowledgement  by  Dr.  Mac- 
leod,  of  St.  Columba,  of  the  toast  '  The  Church  oi 
Scotland.'  But  all  who  still  remember  that  night 
will  recall  as  not  the  least  striking  event  of  the  evening 
the  way  in  which  Norman  returned  thanks  for 
the  toast  of  the  students  of  Glasgow  University.  I 
think  I  can  see  him  now,  standing  forth  prominently, 
conspicuous  to  the  whole  vast  assemblage,  his  dark  haii, 
glossy  as  a  black-cock's  wing,  massed  over  his  fore- 
head, the  '  purple  hue  '  of  youth  on  his  cheek.  They 
said  he  trembled  inwardly,  but  there  was  no  sign  of 
tremor  or  nervousness  in  his  look.  As  if  roused  by  the 
sight  of  the  great  multitude  gazing  on  him,  he  slood 
forth,  sympathizing  himself  with  all  who  listened,  and 


94-  LIl'E   OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

confidoTit  tliat  they  sympathized  with  him  and  with 
those  for  whom  he  spoke.  His  speech  was  short,  plain, 
natural,  modest,  with  no  attempt  to  say  fine  things. 
Full  of  good  sense  and  good  taste,  every  word  was  to 
the  point,  every  sentence  went  home.  Many  another 
might  have  written  as  good  a  speech,  but  I  doubt 
whether  any  young  man  then  in  Scotland  could  have 
spoken  it  so  well.  From  his  countenance,  bearing,  and 
rich,  sweet  voice,  the  words  took  another  meaning  to 
the  ear  than  they  had  when  read  by  the  eye.  Peel 
himself,  a  man  not  too  easily  moved,  was  said  to  have 
been  greatly  impressed  by  the  young  man's  utterance, 
and  to  have  spoken  of  it  to  his  father.  And  well  he 
might  be.  Of  all  Norman's  subsequent  speeches — on 
platform,  in  pulpit,  in  banquet,  and  in  assembly — no 
one  was  more  entirely  successful  than  that  first  simple 
speech  at  the  Peel  Banquet. 

"  During  the  session  that  followed  the  banquet,  the 
Peel  Club,  which  had  been  raised  among  the  students 
to  carry  Peel's  election,  and  to  perpetuate  his  then 
principles,  was  in  full  swing,  and  Norman  was  the 
soul  of  it.  Many  an  evening  I  went  to  its  meet- 
ings in  college,  not  as  caring  for  its  dry  minutes  of 
business,  but  to  hear  the  hearty  and  heart-stirring 
impromptu  addresses  with  which  Norman  animated 
all  that  had  else  been  commonplace.  There  are  not 
many  remaining  who  shared  those  evenings,  and 
those  who  do  remain  are  widely  scattered ;  but 
they  must  look  back  to  them  as  among  the  most  vivid 
and  high-spirited  meetings  they  ever  took  part  in. 
What  a  contrast  to  the  dull  routine  of  meetings 
they  have  since  had  to  submit  to !     And  the  thing 


1036 — 7-  95 

that  made  them  so  diftbrent  was  Norman's  presence 
there. 

"But  if  these  first  public  appearances  were  brilliant, 
still  more  delightful  was  private  intercourse  with  him 
as  he  bore  himself  in  his  home.  His  father  had  such 
entire  confidence  in  him,  not  unmingled  with  fatherly 
pride,  that  he  entrusted  everything  to  him.  Hie 
three  boarders  were  entirely  under  Norman's  care,  and 
he  so  dealt  with  them  that  the  tutor  or  teacher 
entirely  disappeared  in  the  friend  and  elder  brother 
of  all,  and  of  each  individually.  Each  had  a  bed- 
room to  himself,  in  which  his  studies  were  carried 
on ;  but  all  met  in  a  common  sitting-room  which 
Norman  named  '  The  Coft'ee-room.'  There,  when 
college  work  was  over,  sometimes  before  it  was  over, 
or  even  well  begun,  we  would  gather  round  him,  and 
with  story,  joke,  song,  readings  from  some  favourite 
author  —  Sir  Thomas  Browne's  'Eeligio  Medici,' 
Jeremy  Taylor  —  or  some  recitation  of  poetry,  he 
would  make  our  hearts  leap  up. 

"  What  evenings  I  have  seen  in  that '  coffee-room  ! ' 
Norman,  in  the  grey-blue  duffle  dressing-gown,  in 
which  he  then  studied,  with  smoking- cap  on  his  head, 
coming  forth  from  his  own  reading-den  to  refresh 
himself  and  cheer  us  by  a  brief  bright  quarter  of  an 
hour's  talk.  He  was  the  centre  of  that  small 
circle,  and  whenever  he  appeared,  even  if  there  was 
dulness  before,  life  and  joy  broke  forth.  At  the 
close  of  the  first  session — I  speak  of  1836-37 — the 
party  that  gathered  in  the  coffee-room  changed. 
MacConochie  and  Nairne  went,  and  did  not  return ; 
William  Clerk  remained ;  and  the  vacant  places  were 


96  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

at  the  beginning  of  next  session,  1837-38,  filled  by 
three  new  comers — Kobert  (now  Sir  liobort)  Dalyell, 
of  Binns ;  James  Home ;  and  John  Mackintosh, 
the  youngest  son  of  Mackintosh  of  Geddcs.  There 
were  also  two  or  tlii*ee  other  students  who  boarded 
elsewhere,  but  who  were  often  admitted  as  visitors 
to  the  joyous  gatherings  in  the  coffee-room.  Among 
these  was  Henry  A.  Douglas,  afterwards  Bishop 
of  Bombay.  While  all  these  young  friends  so  loved 
and  admired  Norman  that  it  would  be  hard  to  say  who 
did  so  most — a  love  which  he  seemed  to  return  almost 
equally  to  all — John  Mackintosh  was  no  doubt  the  one 
who  laid  the  deepest  hold  on  his  heart.  They  were  fitted 
each  to  be  the  complement  of  the  other.  The  serious, 
devout,  pure  nature  of  John  Mackintosh  drew  forth 
from  Norman  reverence  more  than  an  elder  usually 
accords  to  a  younger  friend ;  on  the  other  hand, 
Norman's  deep  and  manly  love  of  goodness  and  holi- 
ness won  John's  confidence,  while  his  hopeful  aspira- 
tion and  joyousness  did  much  to  temper  the  tone  of 
John's  piety,  which  verged  somewhat  on  austerity. 
I  believe  that  their  characters,  so  different  yet 
so  adapted  to  respond  to  each  other,  were  both  of 
them  much  benefited  by  the  friendship  then  begun. 

''John  Mackintosh  had  at  that  time  another  friend, 
who  was  also  his  tutor,  William  Bm-ns,  who  soon 
became  the  groat  revival  preacher,  and  afterwards  the 
missionary  to  China.  Between  Norman  and  William 
Burns,  John  used  to  live  half-way  in  spirit.  But  I 
don't  think  that  Norman  and  Burns  ever  knew  each 
other  intimately.  Norman's  mirth  seemed  to  Burns 
profanity,  and  TUiriis'  rapt  C'alvinistic  piety,  tliat  looked 


1836 — 7-  97 

on  laughter  as  sinful,  seemed  to  Norman  somewliat 
too  severe.  In  fact  they  were  not  then  fitted  to  uuder- 
stand  each  other.  It  was  in  this  session  of  1837-38 
that  the  friendship  of  ]^orman  with  John,  so  fruitful 
in  results  to  hotli,  first  began.  He  himself  was  then 
not  a  student,  as  he  had  received  license  in  May, 
1837,  and  was  ordained  in  Loudoun  in  March, 
183S  ;  but  until  he  settled  in  his  parish  he  continued 
inider  his  father's  roof,  and  in  the  same  relationship 
as  formerly  with  the  young  men  who  wintered  there. 
The  Church  was  then  being  greatly  exercised  by 
those  contentions  which  ended  four  years  afterwards 
in  the  Disiuption.  Norman  took  a  lively  interest  in 
these  ;  but  from  the  first,  both  from  temj)erament  and 
family  tradition,  sided  with  the  party  who  opposed 
the  Non-Intrusionists.  Not  that  Norman  was  in  any 
measure  fitted  by  nature  to  be  a  Moderate  of  the 
accepted  type.  His  ardent  and  enthusiastic  tempera- 
ment could  never  have  allowed  him  to  belong  to  the 
party.  Eut  in  the  aims  and  contendings  of  the  Veto 
men,  he  seemed  from  the  first  to  discern  the  jjresence 
of  sacerdotal  pretensions  which  he  his  whole  life 
long  stoutly  withstood. 

"  Before  the  close  of  the  session  of  1837-38,  Norman 
was  appointed  to  the  parish  of  Loudoun,  in  Ayr- 
shire, and  ordained  as  its  minister.  When  the  close 
of  our  next  and  last  session  in  Glasgow  (1838-9) 
arrived,  he  arranged  that  his  old  friends  of  the  Cofiee- 
room  should  go  down  and  pay  him  a  visit  in  his 
Manse  at  Loudoun  on  the  first  of  May.  The  usual 
winding-up  of  college  had  taken  place  in  the  morning, 
and  by  the  afternoon  a  merry  party  were  seated  on  the 

VOL.    I.  H 


qS  life  of  norm  an  MACLEOD 

top  of  the  Ayrshire  coach,  making  their  way  through  the 
pleasant  country  of  Mearns,  in  Renfrewshire,  towards 
their  friend's  Manse.  That  pai-ty  consisted  of  William 
Clerk,  Eobert  Dalyell,  Henry  Douglas,  and  myself. 
For  some  reason  or  other,  which  I  cannot  now  re- 
member, John  Mackintosh  could  not  join  the  party.  It 
was  a  beautiful  spring  evening,  and  the  green  burn- 
braes  as  we  wound  along  laughed  on  us  with  their 
galaxies  of  primroses.  You  may  imagine  what  a 
welcome  we  received  when  at  evening  we  reached 
the  IManse  door.  We  staid  there  three  days,  or 
four.  The  weather  was  spring-like  and  delightful. 
We  wandered  by  the  side  of  the  Irvine  Water, 
and  under  the  woods,  all  about  Loudoun  Castle, 
and  Norman  was,  as  of  old,  the  soul  of  the  party. 
He  recurred  to  his  old  Glasgow  stories,  or  told  us 
new  ones  derived  from  his  brief  experience  of  the 
Ayrshire  people,  in  whom,  and  in  their  characters, 
he  was  already  deeply  interested.  All  day  we  spent 
out  of  doors,  and  as  we  lay,  in  that  balmy  weather,  on 
the  banks  or  under  the  shade  of  the  newly  budding 
trees,  converse  more  hearty  it  would  be  impossible  to 
conceive.  And  yet,  there  Avas  beneath  it  an  under- 
tone of  sadness ;  for  we  foreboded  too  surely  Avliat 
actually  has  been  fulfilled,  that  it  was  our  last 
meeting  ;  that  they  who  met  there  should  never  again 
all  meet  together  on  earth.  There  were,  with  the  host, 
five  in  that  Loudoun  party.  I  do  not  think  that 
more  than  two  of  tlicm  have  since  met  at  one  time. 

''  On  the  last  day  of  our  wanderings,  Norman,  -who 
had  hitherto  kept  u])  our  spirits  and  never  allowed  a 
word  of  sadness  to  mar  tlu'  mirth,  at  last  said  sud- 


1830 — 7-  99 

denly,  as  we  were  reclining  in  one  of  the  Loudoun 
Castle  woods,  '  jSTow,  friends,  this  is  the  last  time  we 
shall  all  meet  together ;  I  know  that  well.  Let  us 
have  a  memorial  of  our  meeting.  Yonder  are  a 
number  of  primrose  bushes.  Each  of  you  take  up 
one  root  with  his  own  hands ;  I  will  do  the  same  ; 
and  we  shall  plant  them  at  the  Manse  in  remembrance 
of  this  day.'  So  we  each  did,  and  carried  home  each 
his  own  primrose  bush.  When  we  reached  the 
Manse,  Norman  chose  a  place  where  we  should  plant 
them  side  by  side.*  It  was  all  simple  and  natural, 
yet  a  pathetic  and  memorable  close  of  that  delightful 
early  time. 

"  Early  next  morning  we  all  left  the  Manse,  and,  I 
believe,  not  one  of  us  ever  returned.  It  was  as 
!N'orman  said.  We  went  our  several  ways — one  to 
Cambridge,  two  to  Oxford ;  but  never  again  did 
more  than  two  of  us  forgather. 

"  Two  things  strike  me  especially  in  looking  back  on 
Norman  as  he  then  was.  The  first  was,  his  joyous- 
ness — the  exuberance  of  his  joy — joy  combined  with 
purity  of  heart.  We  had  never  before  known  any 
one  who  took  a  serious  view  of  life,  and  was  really 
religious,  who  combined  with  it  so  much  hearty  hope- 
fulness. He  was  happy  in  himself,  and  made  all 
others  happy  with  whom  he  had  to  do.  At  least 
they  must  have  been  very  morose  persons  indeed  who 
were  insensible  to  the  contagion  of  his  gladness. 

*  When  Norman  left  Loudoun,  lie  transplanted  some  of  tbese 
primrose  roots,  and  put  them  opposite  his  study  windows  at  Dal- 
keith. The  Loudoun  Manse  jonquils  and  favourite  little  '  rose  do 
Meaux'  were  also  transplanted  to  Dalkeith,  to  revive  the  samo 
memories  there  as  at  Loudoun. 

H    2 


100  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

''  The  second  was  the  power,  and  viyidne!=.s,  and 
^activity  of  his  imagiuation.  lie  was  at  tliat  time 
*  of  imagination  all  compact.'  I  have  since  that  time 
knoAvn  several  men  whom  the  world  has  regarded  as 
poets ;  but  I  never  knew  any  one  who  contained  in 
himself  so  large  a  mass  of  the  pure  ore  of  poetry.  I 
have  sometimes  thought  that  he  had  then  imagination 
enough  to  have  furnished  forth  half-a-dozen  poets. 
Wordsworth's  saying  is  well  known — 

'  Oh,  many  are  the  poets  that  are  sown 
Bj'  Nature  :  men  endowed  with  highest  gifts, 
The  vision  and  the  faculty  divine, 
Yet  wanting  the  accomplishment  of  verse.' 

Coleridge,  I  think,  has  questioned  this.  Eut  if 
Wordsworth's  words  are,  as  I  believe  they  are,  true, 
then  Norman  was  pre-eminently  a  poet.  He  had  the 
innate  power,  but  he  wanted  the  outward  accomplish- 
ment of  verse.  Not  that  he  wanted  it  altogether  ;  but 
he  had  not  in  early  youth  cultivated  it,  and  Avhen 
manhood  came,  the  press  of  other  and  more  practical 
duties  never  left  him  time  to  do  more  than  dash  off 
a  verse  or  two,  as  it  rose,  spontaneously,  to  his  lips. 
Had  he  had  the  time  and  the  will  to  devote  himself  to 
poetry  with  that  devotion  which  alone  ensures  suc- 
cess, it  was  in  him,  I  believe,  to  have  been  one  of 
the  highest  poets  of  our  time.  Often  during  an 
evening  in  his  study,  or  in  a  summer  day's  saunter 
with  him  by  a  Highland  loch,  I  have  heard  him  pour 
forth  the  substance  of  what  might  have  been  made 
a  great  original  creation — thoughts,  images,  descrip- 
tions, ranging  through  all  the  scale,  from  the  sublime 
to  the  humourous  and  the  droll ;  ■\^■llich,  if  gathered 


1836 — 7*  ^°' 

Tip,  and  put  into  the  outward  shape  of  poetry,  would 
have  been  a  noble  poem.  But  he  felt  that  he  was 
called  to  do  other  work.  And  it  was  well  that  he  obeyed 
the  call  as  he  did,  and  cast  back  no  regretful  look  to 
the  poetry  that  he  might  have  created." 

It  may  be  well  here  to  explain  a  feature  which,  as 
expressed  in  his  journals,  may  appear  strange  to  the 
reader,  but  is  quite  characteristic  of  the  man.  There  is 
often  such  a  rapid  passing  from  '  grave '  to  '  gay,'  and, 
in  his  earlier  years,  such  self-reproach  for  indulging  in 
things  really  innocent,  that,  in  giving  perfectly  faith- 
ful extracts,  it  has  been  found  difficult  to  avoid 
conveying  an  impression  of  harshness  or  unreality. 
There  was  nothing  more  natural  to  him  than  so  to 
combine  all  tones  of  feeling,  that  those  who  knew 
him  felt  no  abrupt  contrast  between  the  mirthful  and 
the  solemn.  But,  as  it  might  be  expected  from  his 
sensitive  conscientiousness,  he  did  not  at  first  recog- 
nize the  lawfulness  of  many  things  he  afterwards 
'allowed  himself  without  any  sense  of  inconsistency. 
It  is  accordingly  interesting,  biographically,  to  notice 
the  difference  betwixt  his  youth  and  age  in  matters 
like  these,  as  well  as  the  change  which  his  opinions 
underwent  on  many  political  and  theological  subjects. 


From  his  Journal  : — 

''Nov.  17th. —  This  last  week  being  the  one  for  electing 
a  Lord  Rector,  I  was  very  busy,  having  been  the  leader  of 
the  Peel  party.  We  carried  him  by  a  majority  of  one 
hundred.  This  caused  me  much  excitement,  and  drew 
my  mind  away  from  God. 


102  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  Sundai/,  SOth  Nov. — I  intend  by  the  grace  of  God  to 
throw  off  my  natural  indolence,  and  rise  every  morning 
this  winter  at  six  o'clock.  I  study  Hebrew,  Greek,  and 
Church  history  every  morning  before  breakfast ;  chemistry, 
anatomy,  and  natural  history  (my  fiivourite  study  next  to 
divinity)  during  the  day;  logic,  theology,  reading,  and 
writing  in  the  evening. 

"  Is  a  Christian  not  entitled  to  dmw  lessons  of  conduct 
from  natural  religion  interj^reted  by  revealed  ?  May  he  not 
study  the  final  causes  in  his  moral  constitution  ?  What 
then  is  the  final  cause  of  the  sense  of  the  ludicrous  ? 

"  Saturdatj,  ^\d  Dec,  183G. — The  passing  of  time  is 
enough  to  make  a  man  '  tremble  like  a  guilty  thing.'  I 
feel  as  if  I  could  compress  what  remains  of  the  last  year 
into  the  thoughts  of  an  hour. 

"  And,  then,  what  reminiscences  of  the  past !  This 
moment  thoy  are  all  gay  in  Weimar  !  I  see  them  all. 
The  thought  is  only  momentary,  and  shines  in  my  mind 
like  the  last  rays  of  an  extinguished  taper. 

"  Yes,  I  am  changed.  I  have  felt  the  transition.  I 
know  it. 

"  The  ideality  of  life  soon  vanishes,  and  can  only  be 
renewed  when  new  channels  are  formed  for  our  affections. 
But  why  do  we  not  fix  them  on  unfading  ol)jects  ? 

"March  hth. — What  a  gap!  It  is  shameful.  At  a 
time,  too,  when  circumstances  have  occurred  which  I  am 
convinced  must  influence  my  life  in  no  small  degree. 

"  When  Peel  came  down  there  were  great  doings.  I 
spoke  for  the  students  at  his  dinner,  and  though  I  felt 
considerably  in  addressing  three  thousand  five  hundred 
people,  yet,  from  the  manner  in  which  I  was  supported,  I 
got  on  well,  and  met  with  Peel's  decided  ai)pr()bation.  I 
have  had  the  honour  also  of  being  elected  President  of  the 
Peel  Club.  Because  of  these  and  other  things,  I  have 
fallen  fearfully  through  with  my  studies,  although  my 
having  had  no  small  part  in  bringing  Peel  here  is  enough 
to  give  some  value  to  my  existence. 

'' Fridiuj. — I  have  just  returned  from  Hobcrt  Dalglish's 
ball  ! — a  crowd.  I  have  returned  sick  at  heart.  It  is 
my  last  ball  !      And   1  heard  the  German  waltzes  played, 


1836 — 7-  ^^i 

and  my  brain  reeled.  I  shut  my  eyes.  I  was  once  more 
with  all  my  old  Weimar  friends  ;  when  I  opeiied  them  the 
faces  were  the  faces  of  strangers,  and  I  could  stand  it  no 
longer,  but  left  at  twelve.  I  alone  seemed  sad.  The 
louder  and  more  cheerful  the  music  grew,  the  more  deeply 
melancholy  I  became. 

'' Siindai/,  7  th  Ilai/,  1837. — How  life  gallops!  What 
chano-es  !  How  we  do  liurry  along  from  the  days  of 
childhood  to  wild  and  imaginative  youth,  and  then 
gradually  sober  down  to  sedate  manhood  !  Only  look  at 
the  last  page — music  and  dancing  ! — and  this  page  has 
to  record  the  most  solemn  event  in  my  '  little  history  ' — 
that  upon  W^ednesday  last  I  was  made  a  preacher  of  the 
gospel,  and  to-day  I  preached  my  first  sermon  ! 

"  This  is  a  niek,  a  point,  in  a  man's  life.  It  marks  the 
past  and  future.  I  only  wish  I  could  write  my  real  state 
of  mind  about  it ! 

"  The  goodness  of  God  has  been  great,  very  great.  If 
it  were  not  for  His  great  love,  I  could  not  stand  a  minute. 
But  my  own  state  has  had  this  good  effect,  that  it  has 
made  me  distrust  myself  and  rely  more  on  Christ. 
I  have  got  a  most  irritable  temper.  I  have  got  a  loose 
way  of  talking  and  of  using  slang  words,  most  unbecoming 
my  profession.  I  feel  a  much  greater  willingness  to 
overcome  this  habit  since  I  have  entered  the  clerical  office. 

"  I  went  to  church  to-day  with  much  prayer,  and  I  was 
wonderfully  supported.  I  praise  the  Lord  for  it.  I  pray, 
for  Christ's  sake,  that  I  may  be  enabled  to  perform  m.y 
most  arduous  duties  looking  to  Jesus.  O  God  in  heaven, 
keep  me  from  courting  popularity  !  May  I  feel  deeply, 
most  deeply,  that  I  am  Thy  servant,  doing  Thy  will,  and 
not  seeking  my  own  pleasure.  May  I  never  teach  the 
people  a  lie,  but  teach  them  Thy  truth !  " 


To  his  Aunt,  Mrs.  Maxwell  : — 

Mmj  8,  1837. 

"  Does  the  quality  of  a  correspondent  improve  by  age 
like  port  wine  or  Highland  whiskey  ?  Do  his  goods  rise 
in  value  the  more  rare  they  become  ?  Or  does  the  value 
of  a  gift  increase  with  the  dignity  of  the  donor  ?      If  you 


104  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

reply  in  tlie  affirmative  to  these  queries  then  one  of  my 
letters  now  is  more  to  be  esteemed  than  twenty  hereto- 
fore, for  I  am  older,  my  goods  are  rarer,  and  my  dignity 
is  increased  ;  for  on  Wednesday  I  passed  gallantly  from 
the  student  state  to  that  of  the  preacher,  and  yesterday 
I  ascended  from  the  body  of  the  church  to  its  heart — even 
to  the  pulpit !  Aye,  Jane,  don't  be  horrified  at  seeing  a 
grey  hair  or  two !  The  thumping  child  has  grown  into  a 
thumping  preacher,  and  you  may  soon  have  to  submit 
quietly  to  be  scolded  by  him  whom  you  used  to  drill  into 
manners  and  morals.  '  Ochone  ! '  as  Coll  Avould  say,  but 
"\ve  do  gallop  down,  or  it  may  be  up,  with  railway  speed  ! 
I  am  actually  beginning  to  get  a  glimpse  of  age  myself  I 
do  not,  however,  as  yet  recognise  him  by  his  snowy  locks 
and  tottering  steps,  but  by  his  gaiters  and  white  neckcloth. 
I  always  had  a  horror — I  know  not  why — at  the  transition 
state  of  preacher.  He  is  worse  than  nobody.  He  is 
patronised  by  old  maids,  '  the  dear,  good  old  souls  ;'  he  is 
avoided  by  the  young  ladies,  for  they  know  that  he  has 
no  2:)rinciple  and  would  jilt  when  convenient.  He  is  cut  by 
the  young  men  for  his  snobbish  dress  ;  he  is  cut  by  the  old, 
for  they  know  he  will  bore  them  for  their  interest.  Young 
ministers  dislike  him  from  pride  ('  set  a  beggar,'  &c.)  ;  and 
the  old  dislike  him  from  fear  ;  they  hate  his  voice  as  they 
hate  the  cry  of  the  owl,  for  *  it  speaks  of  death  ;'  they 
look  on  him  as  a  young  soldier  looks  on  a  vulture  that  is 
■watching  his  last  breath  in  order  to  get  a  living.  He  is  a 
very  nightmare  to  the  manse — 'a  lad'  is  the  personi- 
fication of  all  that  is  disagreeable.  Such  a  being  am  I, 
Jane,  will  you  shelter  me  ? 

"  It  is  too  bad  to  occupy  so  much  room  with  so  much 
nonsense.  I  got  on  well  yesterday,  and  now  that  the  ice 
is  broken,  I  hope  to  get  on  still  better.  I  am  to  preach 
next  Sunday  in  the  Barony  ;  I  then  go  to  the  Assembly,  and 
then  I  wish  to  go  to  Skye. 

''Glen  Morriston,  Wednesday,  18th  July,  1837,  Tor- 
goil  Inn. — [On  a  walking  tour  to  Skye.]  I  have  said 
it  often,  and  now  again  I  say  it  in  Torgoil,  that  I 
hate  travelling  by  myself!  I  think  I  should  become  a 
mere   animal    if   I    were  thus   to   be  stalking  about  for 


1836 — 7-  '°5 

a  year  and    not  a  soul  to  speak  to.     Don't  talk   about 
reflection— one    has    too    much    of   it.      The   whole    clay 
it  is  a  continued  reflection  upon  oneself — when  to  rest, 
when  to  rise,    how  far   it  is  to   the   inn,    what  shall  be 
taken,    how    much  paid.     And  as    for  thought,    why    a 
wallet  and  blistered  feet  are  enough  to   crush   it.  _  Here 
am  I  this  very  moment  in  a  small,  paltry  place,   in  the 
midst  of  a  huge  glen,  the  rain  pouring  in  torrents  and  the 
mountains  covered  with  the  wet  mist ;  the  trees  dripping, 
the  burn    roaring,   sheep-dogs    crawling    past    the    door, 
hens  in  the  entry,  and  barefooted  and   bare-legged  boys 
skelping  through 'the  mud.      And  within  nothing  to  cheer. 
In  the  first  place  a  huge  birch-bush  in  the  grate,  by  way  of 
a  novelty,  half-a-dozen  chairs  stuck  up  like  sentinels  against 
the  wall,  a  stiff,  ugly  table,  with  a  screen  and  a  tea-tray 
having  landscapes  and  figures  upon  them,  which,  to  say  the 
least,  do  not  equal  those  of  Claude  Lorraine  ;  you  pull  the 
bell,  away  comes  a  yard  of  wire,  but  no  bell  rings  ;  you 
strike  the  table,  and  every  dog  rushes  out  barking  ;  you  call 
the  girl,  and  she  appears  from  the  '  but,'  and  does  what 
you  bid  her  do,  but  only  when  she  pleases.     But  I  must  go 
back  on  my  previous  route.     (I  just  now  lifted  the  window 
to  look  out,  and  was  nearly  guillotined  by  its  coming  down 
on  my  neck,  not  having  olDserved  a  huge  black  peat  which 
hes  beside  it  for  supporting  it  on  great  occasions.)   .... 

''Retrospective,  I  believe  I  never  wrote  the  reason  of 
my  refusing  to  become  a  candidate  for  Anderston  Church, 
Glasgow.  I  was  requested  earnestly  by  one  of  the  managers 
(Stuart)  to  apply,  and  he  had  been  written  to  by  others 
who  had  heard  me  preach  in  Gourock.  I  promised  to  preach, 
but  declined  becoming  a  candidate  upon  the  acknowledged 
ground  of  unfitness.  I  consider  that  the  town  clergy 
should  be  our  bishops.  They  must  be  the  leaders  of  the 
Church  in  public  matters,  whether  in  regard  to  the  internal 
government  of  the  Church,  or  its  relation  to  the  State. 
How  much  knowledge  is  required  to  do  this  properly,  and 
as  it  ought  to  be  done,  by  men  who  profess  to  act  from 
principle !  how  much  scientific  reading  on  Church  polity 
and  history  !  The  personal  acquirements  which  a  clergy- 
tnan  requires  to  fit  him  for  such  a  public  appearance,  and 


io6  LIFE  OF  NORMjiN  ^fACLEOD. 

also  for  occupying  that  comnianding  position  in  private 
•\vhicli  he  ouglit  to  ttiko,  are  siieli  as  no  young  man  can 
liave  when  his  time  is  occupied,  as  it  must  be  in  town,  by 
other  weighty  matters  still  more  intimately  connected  with 
his  profession — as,  for  instance,  preacliing.  His  audience 
is  in  general  very  select,  well  infonned,  and  though  the 
truths  enforced  are  the  same  both  in  town  and  country, 
yet  how  different  are  the  media  of  communication  !  This 
abominable  custom  or  necessity  of  letting  seats,  and  thence 
paying  the  minister,  compels  him  to  attend  to  this  taste 
however  vitiated  ;  and  I  feel  convinced  that  it  never  Avas 
more  vitiated  than  at  present,  owing  perhaps  to  the  system 
of  competition  in  Scotland,  both  for  pulpits  and  for 
churches,  and  against  the  dissenters.  But  the  fact  is, 
that  effort,  and  froth,  and  turgidity,  and  an  attempt  after 
grand  generalisations,  are  required  to  gain  popularity — the 
ruling  object  of  the  mass. 

"Nay,  this  emptiness  of  thought  combined  with  high 
swelling  words  arises  from  another  cause — the  necessity 
under  which  men  are  laid  to  preach  not  only  two,  but 
sometimes  three  sermons  every  Sunda}^  Avithout  their 
heads  being  so  filled  with  divinity  or  their  hearts  Avith 
Christian  experience,  as  to  enable  them  to  give  solid 
teaching  to  their  people.  Now  these  and  many  other 
difficulties  are  removed  by  having  a  country  church.  For 
my  own  part,  the  fever  and  excitement  of  composing  for 
a  town  charge  would  at  first  kill  me;  but  let  me  only  have 
ten  years'  hard  study  in  the  country,  and  then,  under  God's 
blessing,  I  may  come  into  a  town  Avith  advantage  to  the 
cause ! 

''Aug.  25th. — Off  to  the  hills  !  Oh,  Avhat  a  Avalk  I  had 
yesterday  !  Never  Avill  I  forget  the  green,  the  deep  green 
grassy  top  of  the  range  of  precipices.  A  vessel  or  two  lay 
like  boys'  boats  on  the  Avater  far  below  me  as  I  sat  on  the 
edge  of  the  precipice,  Avatching  the  Avaves  breaking  on  the 
rocks.  A  Avhitc  sail  or  two  Avas  seen  far  to  the  north  on  the 
edge  of  the  horizon  like  a  sea-gull.  I  never  felt  more  in 
my  life  the  stillness  of  the  air,  broken  only  by  the  bleat  of 
the  sheep,  or  the  croak  of  the  raven.  The  majesty  of  the 
prospect,  the  solitude  of  the  jilace,  filled  me  with  inexpres- 


1836—7.  105 

sible  delight.  The  truth  was,  I  had  started  Avith  depressed 
feeUngs  from  having  been  very  forgetful  of  God  ;  and  upon 
the  top  of  a  mountain  I  have  always  felt  myself  subdued  to 
silent  meditation  and  prayer.  On  the  present  occasion  I 
poured  out  my  soul  in  humble  confession  and  adoration, 
and  words  cannot  tell  the  comfort  which  I  felt,  partly  per- 
haps the  result  of  the  strong  feeling  I  was  under,  but  much 
of  it  truly  substantial.  Thrice  did  I  sing  the  hundredth 
Psalm,  and  at  the  second  verse,  '  Know  that  the  Lord  is 
God  indeed,  without  our  aid  He  did  us  make,'  I  was  quite 
overpowered,  and  felt  as  if  I  spoke  for  the  material  universe 
and  dumb  creatures  around  me.  The  giant  Storr,  with  its 
huge  isolated  peak,  seemed  to  point  to  heaven  in  acknow- 
ledgment of  the  truth. 

"  I  felt  as  if  I  had  one  of  those 

'  Visitations  from  the  living  God, 

In  which  my  soul  was  filled  with  light, 
With  glory,  with  magnificence.' 

"  Slst,  Twelve,  night. — Loveliness  and  beauty  !  The 
stars  twinkling  in  the  deep  blue  sky  like  the  most  bril- 
liant diamonds,  the  hills  dark  and  misty  in  the  distance  ! 
The  rivulets,  inaudible  by  daylight,  blending  their  notes 
with  the  loud  streams,  and  along  the  north  a  magnificent 
aurora  borealis,  an  object  which  ever  fills  me  with  intensest 
pleasure.  It  makes  me  feel  how  much  man's  nature  is 
capable  of  feeling,  and  how  the  soul  may  be  elevated  or 
overpowered  through  the  external  senses.  How  different 
was  the  last  night  I  was  here — Friday  night  !  What  an 
awful  gale  !  Whuss-ss-sh-hoo-hiss-sooo  !  until  I  thought 
the  house  would  be  down.  Three  boats  were  lost  and 
five  people.  One  of  them  the  last  of  four  sons  belonging 
to  a  widow  in  Strath.  Another  was  drowned  last  year 
at  the  canal. 

''Sept.  1st — I  have  this  day  been  led  to  consider 
seriously  my  spiritual  state,  and  truly,  when  I  remember 
my  advantages  and  all  God  has  done  for  me,  I  can  say  that 
it  is  very  deplorable.  There  are  certain  daily  habits  which 
for  some  weeks  I  have  seen  are  wrong,  yet  where  have 
been  my  struggles  to  change  them  ?     How  have  I  shown 


io8  LIFE  OF  NORM  AN  MACLEOD. 

my  faith  by  my  wi^rks  ?  How  frivolous  liave  I  been! 
My  love  of  the  hulicrous  and  of  the  aljsnrd  lias  daily  car- 
ried me  away  and  made  me  behave  quite  unworthy  of  the 
sobriety  necessary  for  every  Christian,  far  more,  for  my 
callin.2f.     'Be  ye  sober.'     Lord  !  help  me  to  keep  tliis  law. 

"  Yet  I  thank  God  that  I  am  anxious — yes,  in  my  heart 
I  say  it — anxious  to  give  up  my  besetting  siris. 

"  0  Lord  God  Almighty,  Thou  who  art  of  purer  eyes 
than  to  behold  iniquity,  most  holy  and  most  merciful 
Father,  Thou  seest  these  my  confessions,  Thou  knowest 
whether  they  are  sincere,  Thou  knowest  the  pride  and 
vileness  of  my  heart.  Oh,  do  Thou  have  mercy  upon  me 
according  to  Thy  loving-kindness,  and  according  to  Tliy 
tender  mercies  blot  out  my  transgressions.  Grant  unto 
me  greater  diligence  in  using  the  means  of  grace,  and 
j)ovver  to  resist  temptation.  May  I  enter  not  into  tempta- 
tion. Keep  me,  0  God,  from  rejoicing  in  anything  which 
belongs  to  myself ;  but  may  every  evidence  of  Thy  love 
lead  me  to  rejoice  in  Thee  alone. 

"  September  6ih. — By  the  grace  of  God  I  have  been 
enabled  to  wait  upon  Him,  and  seek  Him  more  than  I  Avas 
wont.  It  is  an  awful  mistake  to  think  that  when  we 
conquer  a  sin  it  is  beaten  for  ever.  It  is  indeed  invin- 
cible— we  can  only  keep  it  from  conquering  us,  and  so 
overcome  it.  I  must  be  regular  in  the  diligent  use  of 
means,  and  God  may  bless  them  ;  but  I  must  also  push  on 
and  add  one  virtue  to  another. 

"  I  find  that  my  interest  in  the  state  of  others  is  in 
proportion  as  I  am  interested  in  my  own. 

"  Yesterday,  the  5th,  I  had  one  of  the  most  delightful 
excursions  I  ever  had. 

"  The  morning  was  beautiful:  indeed  it  was  not  morning 
Avhen  I  rose  from  a  feverish  and  night-marish  sleep.  A 
few  pale  stars  were  yet  to  be  seen  in  the  sky,  and  the 
ruddy  glow  in  the  east  which  told  of  the  sun's  ap})roach 
soon  robbed  them  even  of  this  ;  and,  except  towards  the 
east,  I  could  see  no  cloud  in  the  sky.  A  few  light,  airy 
wreaths  of  mist  hung  on  the  Coolins,  which,  dark  and 
massive  and  ragged,  stretched  like  a  strong  saw  across  the 
south.      We  were  quickly  on  our  way,  after  partaking  of  a 


183^ — 7-  109 

STihstantial  breakfast  and  providing  for  the  dinner.  Soon 
tlie  east  became  most  beautiful — clouds,  fringed  with 
brightest  gold  feathery  borders,  and  in  more  compact 
masses,  gathered  round  the  sun  a  flaming  retinue  ;  and 
soon  he  opened  an  eye  in  heaven  and  peeped  over  the 
eastern  hills  and  thrust  forth  his  '  golden  horns.'  And  the 
tops  of  the  Coolins  seemed  tipped  with  gold,  and  the 
shadows  became  more  distinct,  and  Hght  glittered  on  the 
calm  sea.  The  vessels  that  lay  under  the  rocks  were 
hardly  visible,  while  their  masts  and  tackling  were  in  clear 
relief  ao-ainst  the  burnincr  sky  and  water.  The  effect  was 
precisely  such  as  I  have  often  admired  in  the  '  Morning ' 
pictures  of  Claude  Lorraine. 

"  Away  we  went,  and  as  the  sun  got  higher  and 
hiofher  Ave  left  the  hi^h  road  and  entered  Glen  Sliti-aehan. 
What  a  glen  !  With  the  inimitable  peak  of  Coolin  on  one 
side,  and  on  the  other  the  sugar-loafed  Marscow, 

"  But  get  on !  at  three  miles  an  hour,  hardly  a  path, 
and  now  in  the  centre  of  the  glen,  five  miles  from  any 
house.  Stand  !  and  say  what  is  Glencoe  to  this  !  A  low 
range  conceals  Coolin  ;  but  see  the  high  peaks  appearing 
beyond,  and  up  that  corry  wdiat  a  mighty  wall  of  jagged 
peaks  is  spread  along  its  top  !  But  Blabheinn  which  is  close 
by,  is  unsurpassed.  It  appears  a  great  trap  dyke,  about  a 
thousand  feet  high,  with  an  edge  above,  cut  and  hacked  in 
every  shape  and  form.  Bare,  black  to  the  top,  apparently 
not  a  goat  could  stand  on  a  yard  of  it — I  question  if  a  fly 
could.  And  there  the  lovely  little  lake  at  its  feet  is  ever 
condemned  to  lie  in  its  shadow.  But,  having  left  our 
horses  at  Cambusiunary,  we  ascended  by  a  rough  road  to 
a  pass,  from  which  Ave  obtained  a  vieAV  of  Coruisk.  The 
ascent  was  difficult.  Wilson  being  a  bad  walker,  I  was  up 
nearly  half  an  hour  before  him — besides,  I  wished  to 
behold  Coruisk  alone ;  and  as  I  ascended  the  last  few 
blocks  of  stone  AAdiich  intercepted  my  view  I  felt  my  heart 
beat  and  my  breathing  becoming  thicker  than  when  T 
was  climbing — for  I  had  rested  before  in  order  to  enjoy 
the  burst  undisturbed — and  a  solemn  feeling  crept  over  me 
as  I  leapt  on  the  crest  of  the  hill,  and  there  burst  upon 
my  sight — shall  I  attempt  to  describe  it  ?     Hoav  dare  1 1 


no  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Around  me  were  vast  masses  of  hypersthene,  and  the 
ridge  on  which  I  stood  was  so  broken  and  precipitous 
that  I  could  not  follow  its  descent  to  the  valley.  At  my 
feet  lay  the  lake,  silent  and  dark,  and  round  it  a  vast 
amphitheatre  of  precipices.  The  whole  Coolins  seemed 
gathered  in  a  semi-circle  round  the  lake,  and  from  their 
summits  to  their  base  not  a  blade  of  verdure — but  one 
bare,  black  precipice,  cut  into  dark  chasms  by  innumer- 
able torrents,  and  having  their  bases  covered  by  debris 
and  fallen  rocks.  Nothing  could  exceed  the  infinite 
variety  of  outline — peaks,  points,  teeth,  pillars,  rocks,  ridges, 
edges,  steps  of  stairs,  niches — utter  wildness  and  sterility. 
From  this  range  there  are  gigantic  projections  standing  out 
and  connected  with  the  main  body.  And  there  lay  the 
lake,  a  part  hidden  from  our  view,  behind  a  huge  rock. 

"  There  it  lay,  still  and  calm,  its  green  island  like  a 
green  monster  floating  on  its  surface.  I  sat  and  gazed  ; 
'  my  spirit  drank  the  spectacle.'  I  never  felt  the  same 
feeling  of  the  horribly  wild — no,  never ;  not  even  in  the 
Tyrolese  Alps.  There  was  nothing  here  to  speak  of  life 
or  human  existence.  *  I  held  my  breath  to  listen  for  a 
sound,  but  everything  was  hushed  ;  it  seemed  abandoned 
to  the  si)irit  of  solitude.'  A  few  wreaths  of  mist  began  to 
creep  along  the  rocks  like  ghosts.  Laugh  at  super- 
stition for  coupling  such  scenes  with  witches  and  water 
kelpies  !  I  declare  I  felt  superstitious  in  daylight  there. 
Oh,  to  see  it  in  a  storm,  with  the  clouds  under  the  spur 
of  a  hurricane,  raking  the  mountain  summit ! 

"  '  The  giant  snouted  crags  ho !  ho ! 
How  they  snort  and  how  they  blow  !  * 

♦  Ach,  die  langen  Felsennasen 
Wie  sio  schuurchen,  wio  sie  blasen  ! ' 

"  I  shall  never  forget  my  visit  I  It  will  fill  the  silent 
eye — the  bliss  of  solitude ;  it  will  come  '  about  the 
beating  of  my  heart,'  and  its  wild  rocks  may  be  connected 
with  moral  feeling  and  '  tranquil  restoration.'  '  The  tall 
rock  *  may  cease  '  to  haunt  me  like  a  passion,'  but  its 
influence  shall  never  die.  And  the  joyous,  oh  !  the  i)as- 
sionate,   hours  I   have  spent  this  summer  in  the  lovely 


1836 — 7-  »". 

mountains  in  Skve  will  ever  influence  my  foelin<:j.s,  and, 
inulcr  the  guidance  of  higher  principles,  they  may,  I  trust, 
be  blessed  for  good,  and  help  in  being  the  '  Muses  of  my 
moral  being.'  I  thank — as  on  the  mountains  I  generally 
do — I  thank  God  for  all  His  kindness,  and  pray  I  may  ever 
be  grateful  for  it. 

'' Thursday  night,  Sept.  7th. — To-morrow  I  start,  D.V., 
for  Fiunary.  My  time  here  has  been  spent  delightfully — - 
though  not  so  usefully  as  it  might  have  been.  My  journal 
Avill  tell  what  hours  of  joy  I  have  spent  among  the  moun- 
tains.     Never  shall  they  be  forgotten. 

"  How  dreary  is  parting — what  a  sickness  at  the 
heart !  how  melancholy  sounds  that  wind  !  Oh,  what  a 
joy  when  there  will  be  no  parting ! 

"  Fiunary,  1 1  th  Se^^t. — I  left  Portree  early  on  Tuesday 
morning.  The  fiery  sunrise,  the  huge  masses  of  greenish- 
greyish-darkish  clouds,  the  scattered  catspaw^s  and  mare's 
tails,  the  rising  breeze,  and  the  magnificent  rainbows 
which  spanned  sea  and  mountains,  all  told  that  our  pas- 
sage would  probably  be  a  rough  one.  And  so  it  was. 
The  wind  rapidly  increased,  until,  as  we  left  the  shelter  of 
the  land  at  Armadale  it  blew  a  stiff  breeze  right  ahead. 
What  a  striking  view  had  we  to  leeward  when  plunging 
on  towards  the  point  of  Ardnamurchan  !  The  sun  was 
almost  setting,  '  the  day  was  well-nigh  done,'  and  along 
the  horizon  was  a  plain  of  red  light ;  this  was  broken  by 
the  Scuir  of  Eig,  which  appeared  in  magnificent  relief, 
and  seemed  to  support  on  its  summit  the  midnight  belt  of 
clouds  which  formed  an  ui3per  and  parallel  stratum  to  the 
ruddy  belt  below.  Through  these  dark  clouds  the  sun  was 
shooting  silver  beams,  beneath  which  the  waves  were  seen 
holding  their  'joyous  dance'  along  the  line  of  the  horizon. 
I  remained  on  deck  until  we  reached  Tobermory.  I  lay 
on  the  tarpaulin,  and,  half-asleep,  watched  the  mast  of 
the  steamer  wanderinsf  alon<jf  the  stars  which  now  shone 
in  unclouded  brilliancy. 

"  Yesterday  preached  at  Kiel.'"  It  was  a  strange  thing 
to  preach  there !      As  I  went  to  the  church  hardly  a  stone 

*  The  name  of  one  of  the  parish  chui'ches  of  Morven. 


112  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

or  knoll  but  spoke  of'  something  which  was  gone,*  and  }  a=;t 
days  crowded  upon  mo  like  the  ghosts  of  Ossian,  and  seemed, 
like  them,  to  ride  even  on  the  passing  wind  and  along  the 
mountain  tops.  And  then  to  preach  in  the  same  pulpit  wliero 
once  stood  a  revered  grandfather  and  father  !  What  a  mar- 
vellous, mysterious  world  is  this,  that  I,  in  this  pulpit,  the 
third  generation,  should  now,  by  the  grace  of  God,  be  keeping 
the  truth  alive  on  the  earth,  and  telling  how  faithful  has  been 
the  God  of  our  fathers  !  How  few  faces  around  me  did  I 
recognise !  In  that  seat  once  sat  familiar  faces — the 
faces  of  a  happy  family  ;  they  are  all  now,  a  few  paces  off, 
in  a  quiet  grave.  How  soon  shall  their  ever  having  existed 
be  unknown  ?      And  it  shall  be  so  Avith  myself! 

"  Oct.  Srd,  Glasgow,  night. — Here  I  am  once  more  in 
my  old  study.  Was  it  a  dream  ?  Nature  never  a})peared 
more  lovely;  never  in  youth  did  I  hail  her  with  more 
ra})ture — never  did  I  feel  '  the  tall  rock  haunt  me  move 
like  a  passion.' 

"  Nov.  Srd. — I  have  got  the  parish  of  Loudoun.  Eternal 
God  I  thank  thcc  through  Jesus  Christ,  and,  under  the 
guidance  of  the  Hol}^  Spirit,  I  devote  myself  to  Thy  ser- 
vice for  the  advancement  of  Thy  qlorv  and  kinqdom. 

"  These  words  I  write  this  day  the  moment  I  hear 
of  my  appointment.  I  again  solemnly  say,  Amen.  I  have 
got  a  parish  !  the  guidance  of  souls  to  heaven  !  I  shall 
at  the  last  day  have  to  tell  how  I  performed  my  duties  — 
part  of  my  flock  M'ill  go  to  the  loft ;  part,  I  trust,  to  the 
right.  I,  their  pastor,  shall  see  this  !  I  am  set  to  gather 
lambs  to  Christ.  What  a  responsibility  !  I  do  not  feel 
it  half  enough  ;  but  I  pray  with  all  my  soul,  heart,  ami 
strength  that  the  Great  Shepherd  may  never  forsake  me. 
Without  Him  I  can  do  nothing ;  with  Him  I  can  do  all 
things. 

"  Oh,  my  Father,  my  kind  and  merciful  Father,  Thou 
who  art  my  Creator  and  Preserver  aiid  Redt^emer,  I  this 
day,  before  Thee,  declare  my  willingn(^ss  to  make  my  soul 
and  parish  part  of  Thy  everlasting  kingdom.  Accept  of 
my  dcej)est  thanks  for  Thy  kindness  until  now.  Father, 
Son,  and  Holy  (Jliost  be  with  me  until  the  day  of  my 
death ;    purify,   strengthen    me,    and   give    me    from  tho 


1836 — 7-  ^^3 

intinite  riches  of  Thy  grace  power  to  be  a  faithful  minister 
and  to  turn  many  people  from  darkness  to  light.  Into 
Thy  hand  I  commit  my  soul ! 

"1  had  an  address,  a  kind  address,  from  Darvel,  in 
Loudoun,  to-day,  which  gave  me  much  encouragement.  I 
feel  an  affection  for  the  parish  already.  May  the  Lord 
grant  in  His  mercy  that  I  may  go  for  the  promoting  of 
Ills  glory." 


CHAPTEK  YII. 

EARLY    MINISTRY    IN    LOUDOUN. 

^'  T  OUDOUN'S  benny  woods  and  braes,"  among 
-Li  Avliich  he  was  to  spend  the  next  five  years  of 
his  life,  stretch  in  picturesque  variety  for  about  six 
miles  along  the  banks  of  the  Irvine  Water.  At  the 
lower  end  of  the  parish  the  towers  of  Loudoun  Castle 
peer  over  the  thick  foliage  of  the  surrounding  park, 
while  at  the  other  extreme  Loudoun  hill,  rising  in  bold 
solitude  like  another  Ailsa  Craig,  closes  in  the  rich 
valley,  and  separates  it  from  the  dreary  moor  of 
Drumclog. 

On  the  recommendation  of  Dr.  Chalmers,  Norman 
Macleod  was  asked  to  preach  at  Loudoun  during  tlie 
vacancy  caused  by  the  death  of  the  previous  minister, 
and  the  Dowager  Marchioness  of  Ilastings,  widow  of 
the  celebrated  Governor-General  of  India,  who  was 
then  patron  of  the  parish,  resolved,  after  very  careful 
deliberation,  to  present  him  to  the  living.  He  was 
accordingly  ordained  as  its  minister  on  the  15th  March, 
1838,  and  entered  on  his  new  duties  with  a  humble 
and  resolute  heart. 

He  was  but  a  short  time  in  the  parish  before  he 
saw  that  he  had  difficult  work  before  him.     The  popu- 


EARLY  iMINISTRV  IN  LOUDOUN.  115 

lation  numbered  upwards  of  four  thousand,  of  whom 
a  small  proportion  were  farmers  and  farm-workers, 
and  the  rest  hand-loom  weavers  residing  in  the  large 
villages  of  Newmilns  and  Darvel.  Both  farmers  and 
weavers  were  of  a  most  interesting  type.  Not  a  few 
of  the  former  were  Covenanters,  and  some  were  on 
lands  which  had  been  tenanted  by  their  families 
since  the  twelfth  century.  The  traditions  of  Drum- 
clog  and  Bothwell  Brig  were  still  freshly  repeated 
at  their  firesides,  and  swords  and  pistols  that  had  done 
service  against  Claverhouse  were  their  treasured  heir- 
looms. The  weavers  were  of  a  totally  different  stamp, 
being  keen  politicians,  and,  as  a  rule,  advanced  radicals. 
Theii-  trade  was  being  gradually  extinguished  by 
the  great  factories,  and  the  men  were  consequently 
poor ;  but  they  were  full  of  enthusiasm,  fond  of  read- 
ing, and  had  that  quaint  intelligence,  strongly  coloured 
with  self-conceit,  which  was  characteristic  of  the  old 
race  of  Scotch  wehsters.  Most  of  them  were  keen 
Chartists,  some  violent  infidels,  who,  with  Tom  Paine 
as  their  text-book,  were  ready  for  argument  on  any 
question  of  Church  or  State.  The  morality  of  the 
parish  was  at  the  same  time  very  low,  and  vital  god- 
liness was  a  rarity. 

While  living  in  lodgings  at  Newmilns  till  his 
Manse  should  be  ready  for  his  reception,  he  was 
shocked  by  the  amount  of  profanity  and  coarseness 
which  met  eye  and  ear,  as  well  as  surprised  at  the 
keen  interest  taken  by  the  people  in  public  questions. 
Political  debate  seemed  to  be  carried  on  at  every  corner. 
The  groups  gathered  here  and  there  in  the  street,  or 
the  crowds  clustered  on  the  '  Green '  round  a  tree, 

I  2 


116  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

nndor  whose  branches  a  vilhige  demagogue  was 
haranguing  about  the  Charter  or  the  Corn  Laws,  dis- 
played an  excitement  which  is  usually  reserved  for 
a  parliamentary  election.  There  was  something  hope- 
ful, however,  in  all  this  life  and  stir,  which,  notwith- 
standing its  association  with  scepticism  and  religious 
inditfcrenco,  did  not  fail  to  impress  his  mind. 

The  work  in  which  he  tirst  engaged  was  careful 
house  to  house  visitation,  recording  as  he  went  along 
the  circumstances  of  every  family  with  great  minute- 
ness, and  his  impressions  of  individual  character.  He 
at  the  same  time  opened  classes  and  organized  a  Sab- 
bath school ;  and  in  order  to  meet  the  case  of  those 
who  excused  themselves  from  going  to  church  at  the 
ordinary  hour  of  worship  on  account  of  having  no 
suitable  clothing,  he  commenced  special  evening  ser- 
vices. He  made  also  a  determined  stand  for  the  strict 
exereise  of  church  discipline,  believing  that,  if  good 
for  nothing  else,  it  would  at  all  events  serve  to  raise 
the  tone  of  public  opinion  as  to  the  character  of  cer- 
tain sins  which  were  too  lightly  regarded. 

This  energetic  action  of  the  young  minister  excited 
at  once  hearty  sympathy  and  hearty  oiDposition.  The 
church  was  crowded,  and  he  was  soon  encouraged 
by  learning  that  his  labours  were  not  without  effect. 
On  the  other  hand,  the  Chartists  were  not  a  little 
suspicious  of  the  growing  influence  of  the  '  'l\^ry  ' 
clergyman — although  he  meddled  little  with  2)olitics 
— and  the  semi-intidels  were  thoroughly  roused  into 
opposition.  Some  of  the  most  violent  of  tliese  two 
parties  would  have  put  an  end,  if  they  could,  to  his 
evening  services,  and  attended  them  for  the  purpose 


I 


EARLV  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  117 

of  creating  disturbance.  One  Sunday  he  liore  with 
the  iuterrujDtion  they  gave  hiui ;  on  the  next  he  remon- 
strated ;  but  this  failing,  he  turned  to  the  people 
who  had  come  to  hear  him — told  them  that  he  had 
undertaken  extra  labour  for  their  benefit,  and  added, 
that  if  they  wished  him  to  go  on  they  must  expel 
those  who  disturbed  him.  He  then  sat  down  in 
the  pulpit.  After  a  pause,  a  number  of  men  rose, 
and  ejected  the  intruders.  This  firmness  served 
greatly  to  strengthen  his  influence  in  the  parish : 
those  who  had  scofi'ed  loudest  came  to  appreciate  his 
earnestness,  and  not  a  few  sceptics  were  among  the 
most  sincere  of  his  converts.  Among  other  means 
employed  by  him  for  reaching  the  more  intelligent  of 
the  would-be  philosophers,  who  stood  aloof  from 
Christianity,  he  brought  his  previous  study  of  natural 
science  into  requisition,  and  gave  a  series  of  lectures 
on  geology,  which  by  their  eloquence,  as  well  as  by 
the  amount  of  well-digested  information  they  con- 
tained, told  with  great  efi'ect.  In  this  manner  he 
gradually  became  master  of  a  difficult  position,  and 
won  an  enthusiastic  attachment  from  the  parishioners 
which  has  never  declined. 

There  were  two  dissenting  churches  in  the  parish, 
with  whose  excellent  ministers,  Mr.  Bruce  and  Mr. 
Eogerson,  he  maintained  a  life-long  friendship.  One 
of  these  congregations  met  at  Darvel  and  consisted  of 
Covenanters  avowing  a  refreshingly  stern  morality, 
and  combining  with  it  articles  of  faith,  especially  in 
reference  to  the  observance  of  the  Sabbath,  as  quaint 
as  they  are  now  rare.  He  had  thus  extremes,  from 
Covenanter  to  Chartist,  to  deal  with ;  and  between  the 


ii8  LIFE   OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

two  many  aTnusing  phasos  of  f-li;iniotor  prosont('(l  tli<'iii- 
sclvcs  to  his  observation.  On  his  first  'diet  of  visita- 
tion '  at  Darvel,  he  called  on  an  old  pauper  woman  who 
was  looked  upon  as  a  great  light  among  the  Covenan- 
ters. When  he  entered  the  house  he  found  her  grasp- 
ing her  tin  ear-trumpet  (for  she  was  very  deaf),  and 
seated  formally  in  the  midst  of  a  group  of  neighbours 
and  co-religionists  summoned  to  meet  him.  Unlike  his 
other  parishioners  she  did  not  at  first  acknowledge  him 
as  minister,  but,  beckoning  him  to  sit  do'svn  beside  her, 
and  putting  the  trumpet  to  her  car,  said,  '  Gang  ower 
ihc  fiindamentah  P  and  there  and  then  he  had  to  bawl 
his  theology  till  the  old  dame  was  satisfied,  after  which 
he  received  a  hearty  welcome  as  a  true  ambassador  of 
Clirist. 

In  contrast  with  this  type  of  parishioner,  he  used 
to  refer  to  a  well-known  Chartist,  who  lived  in  the 
usual  little  cottage  consisting  of  a  hut  containing 
the  loom,  and  of  a  hen  containing  the  wife.  Met  at 
the  door  of  this  man's  cottage,  by  the  proposal,  that 
before  proceeding  further  they  should  come  to  an 
understanding  upon  the  '  seven  points,'  he  agreed  to 
this  only  on  condition  that  the  pastoral  visit  should 
first  be  received.  Minister  and  Chartist  then  sat  down 
on  the  bench  in  front  of  the  door,  and  the  weaver,  with 
shirt-sleeves  partly  turned  up  and  showing  holes  at 
the  elbows,  his  apron  rolled  round  his  waist,  and  a 
large  tin  snuif-mull  in  his  hand,  into  whose  extreme 
depth  he  was  continually  diving  for  an  emphatic  pinch, 
propounded  with  much  pompous  phraseology  his 
favourite  political  dogmas.  When  he  had  concluded, 
he  turned  to  the  minister  and  demanded  an  answer. 


I 


EA  RL  V  iM/NISTR  1 '  IX  L  O  UDOUX.  1 1  cj 

'  In  my  opinion.'  was  tlie  roply,  '  yonr  principles  would 
drive  the  country  into  revolution,  and  create  in  the 
long-run  national  bankruptcy.'  'Nay — tion — al  bank- 
ruptcy ! '  said  the  old  man  meditatively,  and  diving 
for  a  pinch.  "  Div — yc — think — sae  ?'  Then,  briskly, 
after  a  long  snuff,  '  Dod  !  I'd  risk  it ! '  The  naivete  of 
this  ])hilosopher,  who  had  scarcely  a  sixpence  to  lose, 
'  risking '  the  nation  for  the  sake  of  his  theory,  was 
never  forgotten  by  his  companion. 

About  this  time  a  Universalist,  noted  for  his  argu- 
mentativeness, resolved  to  heclde  the  young  minister. 
Macleod  first  questioned  him  on  the  precise  nature 
of  his  belief  in  universal  salvation.  'Do  you  really 
assert  that  every  person,  good  and  bad,  is  saved, 
and  that,  however  wicked  they  may  have  been  on 
earth,  all  are  at  once,  when  they  die,  received 
into  glory?'  'Most  certainly,'  replied  the  man. 
'A  great  and  merciful  Father  must  forgive  every 
sinner.  He  is  too  good  not  to  make  all  His  creatures 
happy.'  '  Then  why  do  you  not  cut  your  throat  ? ' 
'  Cut  my  throat ! '  exclaimed  liis  astonished  visitor, 
*  I  have  duties  to  fulfil  in  the  world.'  '  Certainly ; 
but  it  seems  to  me  that  if  your  views  are  right  your 
highest  duty  is  to  send  every  one  to  lieaven  as  fast  as 
possible.  On  your  principles  every  doctor  should  be 
put  in  jail,  and  the  murderer  honoured  as  a  bene- 
factor.' The  effect  of  this  ai'gumentum  ad  ahsurdum 
was  not  only  to  convince  the  man  of  the  extravagance 
of  his  beliefs,  but  to  lead  him  shortly  afterwards  to 
become  a  communicant. 

His  frank,  manly  bearing,  his  devotion  to  his  work, 
and  his  tact  and  skill  in  dealing  with  every  variety  of 


120  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

character,  rendered  his  personal  influence  as  powerful 
as  his  pupil  teaching.  Yet  the  work  seemed  lor  a 
long  time  weary  and  disappointing.  He  often  returned 
to  the  Manse  so  utterly  cast  down  by  the  conviction 
that  he  was  doing  no  good,  that  he  would  talk  of  giving 
up  a  profession  for  which  he  did  not  seem  fit.  It  was 
only  when  ho  was  about  to  lea\e  the  parish  that  he 
fully  saw  how  mistaken  he  had  been  in  his  estimate  of 
himself.  The  outburst  of  feeling  from  many  of  those 
whom  he  had  looked  upon  as  utterly  indifterent,  and 
the  thanks  heaped  upon  him  for  the  good  he  had  done, 
sui'prised  and  humbled  him.  It  was  not  till  the  last 
week,  not  almost  till  the  last  Sabbath  of  his  ministry 
in  Loudoun,  that  he  Avas  in  the  least  aware  of  the 
extent  to  which  his  work  had  prospered. 

With  several  families  in  the  neighbourhood  he  en- 
joyed the  most  friendly  intercourse.  Among  these 
were  the  Craufurds  of  Craufurdlund  and  the  Browns 
of  Lanfine ;  but  the  home  which,  for  many  reasons, 
afforded  him  some  of  his  happiest,  as  well  as 
most  trying,  hours  was  Loudoun  Castle.  Nothing 
could  have  exceeded  the  confidence  which  the  vener- 
able Countess  of  Loudoun  and  her  daughters,  the 
Ladies  Sophia*  and  Adelaide  Hastings,  placed  in 
him.  They  not  only  honoured  him  with  their  friend- 
ship and  brightened  his  life  by  letting  him  share  the 
society  of  the  interesting  people  who  visited  the 
castle,  but  they  also  accorded  him  the  privilege  of 
being  of  use  and  comfort  to  them  in  many  trying  hours 
in  their  family  history. 

Ilis  domestic  life  at  this  time  was  of  the  freshest. 

♦  Afterwards  Marchioness  of  Bute.  • 


i 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.,  121 

His  Manse  was  pitched  on  the  summit  of  a  wooded 
hrae^  beneath  which  ran  the  public  road,  and  behind 
it  lay  the  glebe,  with  a  sweet  burn  forming  a 
sequestered  and  lovely  haugJi.  His  natural  taste 
for  flowers  ripened  here  into  a  passion,  which 
was  in  no  small  degree  inflamed  b)''  an  enthusiastic 
gardener  whose  hobby  was  pansies  and  dahlias. 
Often  on  a  summer  morning,  early  as  the  song  of  the 
lark,  might  the  shrill  voice  of  old  Arnot  be  heard 
as,  bending  over  a  frame,  he  discussed  with  the 
minister  the  merits  of  some  new  bloom.  A  pretty 
flower-garden  was  soon  formed,  and  a  sweet  sunnner- 
house,  both  destined  to  be  associated,  in  the  minds 
of  many,  with  the  recollection  of  conversations  full 
of  suggestive  ideas  as  to  social,  literary,  or  religious 
questions,  and  enriched  with  marvellous  bits  of 
humourous  personification,  and  glimpses  of  deep 
pt^etic  feeling. 

Soon  after  he  went  to  Loudoun  his  sister  Jane 
cituie  to  reside  with  him,  and  continued  for  eleven 
years  under  his  roof,  his  very  'alter  Ego,'  sharing 
his  every  thought,  possessing  his  inmost  love  and 
confidence,  and  exercising  the  best  influence  on 
all  his  feelings.  His  habit  was  to  rise  early  and 
devote  the  morning  and  forenoon  to  hard  study, 
usually  carried  on  in  a  room  darkened  so  as  to 
prevent  distraction  from  outside  objects.  His  studies 
were  chiefly  theology  and  general  literature,  his 
sermons  being  often  delayed  till  late  in  the  week. 
He  devoted  the  afternoon,  and  frequently  the  evening, 
to  parochial  work,  especially  when  visiting  among  the 
farmers,  who  followed  the  good  old  Scotch  habit  of 


122  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

hospitably  entertaining  the  minister  when  he  went  to 
their  houses.  These  kindly  meetings— his  'movable 
feasts,'  as  he  called  them — gave  him  an  excellent  oppor- 
tunity of  becoming  well  acquainted  with  each  house- 
hold in  the  '  land- ward '  parish.  But  when  he  was 
at  home,  the  evenings  were  usually  spent  in  the  enjoy- 
ment of  music,  in  reading  aloud,  or  in  playing  a  game 
of  chess  with  his  sister.  Highland  pibrochs,  and  reels, 
and  Gaelic  songs,  alternated  with  such  old  ballads  as 
'  Sir  Patrick  Spens,'  '  The  Arethusa,'  '  Admiral  Ben- 
bow  ; '  then  came  snatches  of  German  song,  some 
Weimar-recalling  waltz  of  Strauss,  or  the  grand 
sonatas  of  Beethoven  or  Mozart.  It  was  his  delight 
to  read  aloud.  Shakespear  and  Scott,  and  esi)ef;ially 
such  characters  as  Jack  Fal staff  and  Cuddy  Headrigg, 
were  his  favourites ;  and  as  at  this  time  Dickens  was 
issuing  the  '  Old  Curiosity  Shop '  and  '  Barnaby 
Kudge,'  nothing  could  exceed  his  excitement  as  some 
new  part  of  the  story  of  Little  Nell  or  of  Dolly 
Varden  arrived.  Wordsworth,  however,  was  his 
chief  delight,  and  few  days  passed  without  some 
passage  from  his  works  being  selected  for  meditation. 
But  in  the  midst  of  all  his  cares  and  studies,  he 
retained  not  only  a  boy's  heart,  but  a  love  of  boyish 
fun  perfectly  irresistible.  When  his  old  friend,  Sir 
John  Campbell  of  Kildaloig,  who  had  been  at  sea 
most  of  his  life,  came  to  spend  a  winter  with  him, 
the  two  friends  used  to  indulge  in  many  a  sailor 
prank  from  the  sheer  love  both  had  for  the  brine. 
The  dinner-bell  was  rigged  up  as  on  shipboard,  and 
at  mid-day  Sir  John  struck  eight  bells  as  solemnly  as 
if  the   watch   had   to   be   changed.     Then    Norman, 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  123 

suddenly  emerging  from  his  study,  would  greet  liim 
with  a  run  of  sailor  lingo,  and  voice,  gait,  countenance, 
the  rolling  of  an  imaginary  quid  in  his  cheek,  became 
thoroughly  nautical.  A  sham  'observation'  was- 
taken,  and  after  a  hearty  laugh  the  door  was  shut, 
and  he  returned  to  hard  study  once  more. 

These  five  years  at  Loudoun  were  the  very  spring- 
time of  his  ministerial  life.  Full  of  romantic  dreams, 
and  overflowing  with  hopeful  enthusiasm,  he  seemed 

"  To  hear  his  days  before  him,  and  the  tumult  of  his  lile." 

Many  a  conviction  was  then  formed,  which  afterwards 
germinated  into  notable  action  on  the  larger  field  of  his 
future  career,  and  many  a  line  of  thought  became  fixed, 
determining  his  after  course.  That  sweet  Manse-life, 
and  the  warm  attachment  of  the  parishioners,  shed  to 
the  very  last  a  halo,  as  of  first  love,  over  '  dear,  dear 
Loudoun.' 


From  his  Journal  : — 

"Dec.  ^Ith,  1837. — I  preached  last  Sunday  at  Loudoun, 
and  I  believe  gave  satisfaction.  I  have  every  reason  to 
believe  that  no  veto  will  be  attempted. 

''Loudoun,  Dec.  31,  1837.  Sunday  Night,  11  o'clock. 
— '  The  year  is  waning.'  In  an  hour,  1838  will  have 
arrived.      Let  me  think  ! 

"  This  very  time  five  years  ago  I  was  with  dear  James ! 
Yes,  dear  boy,  I  remember  you.  I  believe  you  are  in 
heaven.  Are  you  looking  upon  me  now,  Jamie  ?  Are 
you  looking  with  anxiety  upon  me,  and  longing  to 
see  me  obtain  the  victory  and  be  with  yourself  and  our 
dear  sister  in  heaven  along  with  our  beloved  Saviour  ' 
By  his  grace  that  victory  will  be  obtained.  Yes,  I 
have  vowed  to  fight,  and  in  God's  strength  I  shall  conquer. 
I  will  trust  in  Him,  who  is  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and 


124  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

for  ever.  Doarest,  we  shall  all  meet.  I  know  it.  I  be- 
lieve it.      Lord,  help  my  unbelief! 

"  Into  Thy  hands,  0  God,  this  night,  I  commit  my  spirit 
in  stepping  into  the  future  1838. 

"  Jan.  14:th. — Have  heard  this  day  from  Loudoun,  that 
yesterday  my  call  was  moderated  and  there  was  not  one 
objector.      This  is  certainly  pleasant  and  most  gratifying. 

"  East  Kilbride  Manse,  Sunday  Evening,  ^ilt  Feb. — 
"  I  have  been  reading  the  Memoirs  of  the  Rev.  C.  Woltf, 
the  poet.  He  was  a  fine  fellow.  There  is  something  very 
affecting  in  his  whispering  to  his  sister,  who  was  bending 
over  him  as  he  was  dying — •  Close  this  eye,  the  other  is 
closed  already,  and  now  farewell ! ' 

"  March  1  '2,th,  Sunday. — This  is  the  last  day  I  shall  pro- 
bably ever  preach  as  a  mere  preacher.  I  have  not  yet 
been  a  year  licensed,  and  upon  Thursday  first  I  expect, 
D.V.,  to  be  ordained. 

"  How  awful  is  the  tide  of  time  ! 

"  Thank  God  from  vny  heart  that  for  some  time  past  I 
have  been  endeavouring  to  see  Christ  as  all  in  all.  But 
when  I  look  forward  to  my  ordination,  it  is  very,  very 
solemn.  As  the  day  approaches,  I  feel  a  shrinking 
from  it.  It  is  first  of  all  a  fearful  responsibility,  and  then 
I  have  not  one  suitable  sermon  Avhich  I  can  give  the 
Sunday  after  my  induction,  and  no  lecture  of  any  kind  ! 
The  very  intellectual  labour  terrifies  me.  I  pray  to  be 
supported  by  God. 

"  March  15th. — How  shall  I  begin  this  day's  diary? 
What  reflections  shall  I  make,  what  thoughts  shall  I 
express    when    I    state    the  fact    that    I    was    this   day 

ORDAINED  A  MINISTER  OF  THE  ChURCH  OF  SCOTLAND  ? 

"  This  indeed  is  a  point  in  a  man's  life,  an  awful  division 
of  time  ! 

"  But  what  are  my  feelings  ? 

"  I  bless  my  Father  and  my  Saviour  for  the  love  shown 
tome.  I  was  enabled  to  have  sweet  communion  with  God. 
Before  going  into  the  church,  and  while  kneeling  beneath 
the  hands  of  the  Presbytery,  I  was,  by  God's  assi^itance, 
enabled  to  devote  heartily  my  soul  and  body  to  the  service 
ol"  uiy  j)a)ish,  which  I  trust  may  be  accepted." 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  125 

To  the  Eev.  A.  Clerk  : — 

Newmilns,  March  25,  I808. 

"I  was  ordained  here  on  the  15th.  You  know  what 
an  awful  thing  it  is.  T  feel  as  if  the  weight  of  those  hands 
was  still  upon  ray  head,  crushing  me  with  responsibility. 
But  it  was  a  delightful  scene.  Never  was  a  more  unani- 
mous, a  more  hearty  welcome,  and  with  real  good-will  was 
my  hand  shaken,  from  the  marchioness  to  the  pauper. 
Dr.  Black  (Barony)  introduced  me.  I  got  well  ov^er  my 
first  sermon,  *  Now  are  we  ambassadors.'  Once  or  twice 
nearly  overcome  ;  and  this  day  I  have  preached  twice.  I 
have  been,  then,  in  the  parish  a  week,  have  been  over  it 
all,  visited  each  day  from  ten  till  five  ;  and  what  do  I 
think  of  it  ?  Why,  that  it  is  in  a  terrible  state — very 
terrible !  Its  population  is  four  thousand.  The  rural 
part  is  good  and  respectable,  and  so  is  Darvel — because 
there  a  most  admirable,  intelligent,  well-read,  kind-hearted, 
frank,  godly  man,  a  Covenanting  minister,  has  been,  who 
goes  into  every  good  Avork  with  heart  and  soul,  and  '  loes 
me  as  a  verra  brither.'  But  Newmilns  !  What  a  place  ! 
I  am  now  in  clean,  comfortable  lodgings.  I  am  acquainted 
with  the  real  state  of  things.  Never,  never,  was  there 
such  desecration  of  the  Lord's  Day  :  dozens  and  dozens  of 
lads  walking  about  and  trespassing  on  fields,  and  insulting 
the  people  and  fearing  neither  God  nor  man.  A  large  pro- 
portion of  the  population  are  born  before  marriage  !  The 
mass  of  the  youth  are  sent  to  work  before  they  can  read, 
and  in  a  few  years  are  independent  of  their  parents.  In  short, 
between  drunkenness  and  swearing  and  Sabbath-breaking, 
the  village  is  in  a  dreadful  state — and  may  God  have 
mercy  on  it !  There  is  in  all  the  parish  an  awful  want  of 
spiritual  religion.  The  Hastings  family  are  the  most 
delightful  I  meet  with.  I  am  there  as  in  my  own  home, 
and  the  time  I  spend  with  them  is  the  hapj^iest  in  the 
week.  I  do  love  them.  But  what,  Archy,  is  to  be  done  ? 
Well,  this  much  I  will  say — that  I  trust  God  has  given  me  a 
deep-felt  conviction  of  my  utter  inability  to  do  anything. 
(At  this  very  moment  you  would  think  a  school  was  coming 
out,  from  the  noise  in  the  street !)     I  was  going  on  to  say 


1 2b  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD, 

that  wliile  on  the  one  hand  I  am  cast  entirely  on  Him  for 
holp,  yet  I  am  also  led  to  use  all  the  iDeans  in  my  power 
to  etl'ect  a  chanf;e.  I  have  been  enabled  boldly,  in  private 
and  public,  to  exhort  and  rebuke  and  speak  the  truth, 
I  have  already  visited  a  good  deal  and,  as  for  as  I  could, 
preached  Christ.  I  rise  at  six  and  write  till  nine — I  must 
do  this.  Till  five  I  am  at  the  disposal  of  my  jiarish  ;  from 
that  till  ten  I  read  and  Avrite.  I  l)ejj;in  U2)on  Wednesday 
family  visitation  in  this  village.  I  will  only  attempt  two 
days  a  week,  and  two  hours  each  day  ;  but  I  must,  as 
soon  as  possible,  get  acquainted  with  the  people,  so  as, 
under  God,  to  tr}'  and  put  a  stop  to  this  monstrous 
wickedness.  I  will  next  year  catechise.  One  thing  I  am  de- 
termined to  make  a  stand  on,  and  that  is  church  privileges. 
As  far  as  the  law  will  permit  me  I  will  go — and  further  if  I 
can.  I  am  eagerly  desirous  to  get  family  worship  esta- 
blished— of  that  there  seems  not  to  be  a  vestige,  except 
among  the  Cameronians,  and  there  every  family  has  it.  I 
can  hardly  make  it  as  yet  a  sine  qua  non  for  baptism,  but 
I  Avill  very  nearly  do  it,  and  soon  I  think  I  shall.  I  have 
only  four  elders.  The  church  does  not  hold  the  communi- 
cants ;  it  is,  of  course,  crammed.  There  are  no  good  Sab- 
bath Schools,  no  Bible  societies.  The  assessments  amount 
to  about  £200  a  year.  Oh,  that  the  Lord  would  pour  His 
Spirit  out  on  the  dry  and  thirsty  ground  !  He  can  do  it — 
and  I  pray,  for  Christ's  sake,  that  He  may  do  it,  for  I  feel 
as  fit  to  change  the  course  of  the  sun  as  the  hearts  of  this 
people.  But  what  a  heart  I  have  myself!  Oh,  my  dear 
friend,  you  know  me  well,  you  will  help  me,  will  yuu 
not,  with  your  prayers  and  with  your  advice  ? " 

From  his  Jouenal  :— 

"  My  Manse  is  very  beautiful.  I  am  making  many 
changes  in  the  grounds.  Tlie  birds  are  beginning  to  sing. 
'  They  are  busy  in  the  wood  ;'  and  it  calms  me  to  sit  in  the 
woods  and  listen  to  them — for  if  God  is  so  kind  to  them, 
and  fills  them  with  so  much  h.-ippiness,  I  ftn^l  assured  he 
will  never  forget  a  minister  in  the  church  of  his  dear  Son, 
unless  he  forgets  Him. 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  127 

"  This  is  the  first  clay  I  have  fairly  l»eguii  work  in  my 

parish.      I  studied   from    five   to    nine.       Visited    T 

p .      He  seems  dying.     He  was  the  first  sick  person  I 

have  ever  visited.  I  spolce  to  him  hy  himself ;  found  him, 
I  think,  indiiferent.  He  admitted  the  truth  of  all  I  said, 
but  I  could  not  get  him  to  c'ose  with  the  offers  of  Christ. 
It  is  my  delight  and  comfort  to  expatiate  on  the  fulness 
and  freeness  of  the  Gospel   without  money  and  without 

price  ;  for  I  find,  as  I  did  with  P ,  that  they  will  not 

accept  of  Christ  without  bringing  something  to  Him. 
And  while  they  are  Avilling  to  say  that  He  is  a  Saviour, 
they  will  not  say  He  is  their  Saviour.  I  spoke  to  him  as 
solemnly  as  I  could,  urging  him  to  accept  Christ  as  He 
Avas,  and  to  come  to  Him  as  he  was — even  as  he  would 
have  to  answer  to  God ! 

"  Mavdi   20th. — A.    M ,    a   perfect   specimen  of  a 

deist — at  one  time  an  atheist,  at  another  a  deist — 
knowing  nothing,  beheving  nothing ;  harsh,  impetuous, 
proud,  prejudiced,  yet  believing  himself  candid—  a  difficult 
man  ;  yet  had  two  children  baptized.  I  spoke  an  hour 
with  him,  but  it  is  like  combating  the  wind.  I  promised 
to  send  him  books.  [Yet  this  man  afcerwards  became  a 
communicant,  and  is,  I  hope,  a  sincere  believer.] 

"  'Srd  April. — Since  my  ordination  I  have  been  busy 
in  the  parish.  I  hnd  kindness  and  attention  everywhere 
I  go, — down  from  that  dear  Hastings  family  to  the  lowest 
on  the  poor's  list. 

"Sunday,  June  lO^/i.— Last  Sabbath  I  entered  my 
twenty-seventh  year.  Another  year  nearer  the  grave.  .  .  . 
I  rejoice  that  many  love  Thee  on  earth  better  than  I  do, 
and  that  the  angels  in  heaven  adore  Thee  in  suitable  ways. 
I  rejoice  that  Thou  art  glorious  without  my  aid.  I  thank 
God  that  any  man  being  converted  to  Christ  would 
rejoice  me,  and  that,  from  my  soul  I  say  it,  I  would  do 
so  though  it  were  not  through  my  instrumentality.  I  thank 
Him  for  the  longings  He  often  gives  me  after  better  things, 
and  for  the  love  with  which  He  often  fills  my  soul  for  Him_ 
and  for  all  Christ's  disciples.  I  thank  Him  that  during' 
the  last  year  He  has  showered  down  on  me  innumerable 
blessings. 


128  L IFE  OF  XO/i.VA  X  MA  CL  EOD. 

"  0  God,  Thine  eye  has  soon  me  write  these  things  ! 
Oniniprosent !  I  rojoice  that  Thou  knowest  the  heart.  I 
have  not  one  tiling  that  I  can  plead — no  faith,  no  repent- 
ance, no  tears.  A  sinner  I  am.  But  oh,  God,  I  will,  in 
opposition  to  all  the  temptations  of  the  flesh  and  corrupt, 
hard  heart — I  will  throw  myself,  with  all  my  strength,  in 
simi)licity  and,  I  trust,  in  godly  sincerity  on  Christ,  and  Him 
crucified,  and  say  this  is  all  my  salvation  and  all  my 
desire. 

^^  June  Itli,  1838,  Loudoun. — I  am  very  haj^py  here, 
and  I  believe  I  may  say  that  I  and  the  people  are 
the  best  of  friends.  I  never  received  greater  civility — 
the  very  voluntaries  came  outside  their  doors  to  shake 
hands  with  me.  The  church  is  crowded  to  suffocation — ■ 
stairs  and  passages,  and  I  never  use  a  scrap  of  paper.  I 
have  an  odd  congregation  of  rich  and  poor,  lords,  ladies, 
and  paupers  ;  but  all  sinners.  I  am  often  frightened  when 
I  think  of  my  mercies. 

"  Ju7i€  25th. —  I  have  had  to-day,  or  this  evening,  much 
joy  and  much  humility.  A  woman  told  me  that  I  had  been 
blessed  for  the  good  of  her  soul,  and  given  her  joy  and  peace  ; 
and  I  think  she  gave  evidence  from  what  I  saw  of  her  that 
she  is  a  true  believer.  She  gave  me  likewise  five  shillings 
for  any  religious  purpose.  She  will  and  does  pray  for  me. 
I  wept  much  at  this  proof  of  God's  love.  I — that  /should 
be  made  such  an  instrument.  But,  blessed  be  God's  name, 
He  may  make  a  fly  do  His  errands.  He  is  good  and  gracious 
— and  oh !  I  hope  I  may  save  some ;  I  pray  I  may  bring  some 
to  Christ,  for  His  sake.  May  I  be  humble  for  all  God  is 
doing  for  me  !  His  blessings  crush  me  !  May  they  not 
destroy  me  !      May  Christ  be  magnified  in  me  !" 

To  a  Friend  : — 

Loudoun,  F'ej^temler  20,  1S3S. 

"  Your  mind  is  a  good,  strong,  vigorous  one,  but  you 
are  inclined  to  indolence.  You  require  the  stinuilus  of 
society  and  of  external  circumstances  to  go  on  your  course. 
You  are  more  of  a  sailing  ship  than  a  steam  ship — tho 
power  which  pro})els  you  niust  come  from  without  more 
than   from    within.      You    are    well    built,    have    famous 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  129 

timber,  a  good  compass,  good  charts  ;    but  you  want    a 
'freshening    breeze    to    follow.'      You    must    then    rouse 
yourself ;  set  every  sail,  and  catch  the  breeze  you  have. 
You    have    many    thnigs    to    stir    you    up.       You    have 
a  noble  moral  experiment  to  try— the  rearing  immortal 
souls.      It  is  no  experiment,  thank  God !      It  is  certanity, 
if  the  right  means  are  used.    If  you  do  not  study,  you  are 
gone.     I  beseech  you,  I  implore  of  you,  my  dear  old  fellow, 
do  not  give  up  study.      Beware  of  backsliding  ;  beware  of 
descending.     It  is  a  terribly  accelerated  motion  !     Beware  of 
the  fearful  temptation  of  thinking  that  you  have  had  suffi- 
cient evidence  of  being  converted,  and  that  as  the  Elect 
never  are  lost  you  may  take  some  ease  in  Zion.      This  is 
not  too  much  for  the  wicked  heart  of  man  to  conceive.^ 
Remember,  we  must  grow  in  grace— we  must  ever  fight  if 
we  are  to  obtain  the  victory.     Christ  waits  to  '  see  of  the 
travail  of  His  soul'     Let  us  not  '  quench  the  Spirit.'     The 
demand  will  bear  a  proportion  to  the  work  done.     I  thank 
you  very  much  for  what  you  said  to  me.      It  has  cleared 
up  the  mist  a  little.     You  are  very  right  about  not  seeking 
too    much   for   evidence.      I   feel   its  truth.      We   are   so 
anxious  to  be  safe  merely— more  than  to  be  holy.      I  am 
by  no  means  satisfied  that  I  have  been  really  converted. 
From  my  natural  constitution  I  am  liable  to  be  deceived. 
My  feelings  being  easily  excited  to  good  as  well  as  bad,  I 
am  apt  to  mistake  an  excited  state  of  the  feelings  for  a 
holy  state  of  the  heart ;  and  so  sure  am  I  of  the  deception, 
that  when  in  an  excited  state  regarding  eternal  things,  I 
tremble,  knowing  it  is  the  symptom  of  a  fall,  and  that  I  must 
be  more  earnest  in  prayer.      Self-confidence  is   my  ruin. 
I  deeply  feel,  or  rather  I  am  clearly  conscious,  of  a  dreadful 
coldness  regarding  the  saving  of  souls.      I  have  seldom  a 
glimpse  of  true  love  for  a  soul.      It  is  an  awful  confession, 
but    it    is    true.      Oh    this    body  of  death  !    this    soul- 
killing,    this     murdering    sin!       When,    when    will    this 
Egypdan    darkness    be   for  ever  past?    when    shall    this 
leprosy  be  finally  healed  ?     Oh  that  my  soul  were  but  one 
half  hour  saturated  and  filled  with  a  sense  of  God's  love  to 
me  a  sinner  !     If  I  could  only  obtain  one  full  and  clear 
glimpse  of  the  gulf  to  which  sin  lias  brought  me  anc^  from 
VOL.  I.  k: 


1 30  LIFE  OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

which  Christ  has  saved  me,  I  know  that  I  would  go  to  the 
world's  end  if  by  any  possibility  I  could  lead  another  to 
see  the  same  great  salvation.  Never,  never  can  we  succeed 
as  ministers  unless  we  are  personally  holy.  Power,  genius, 
learning,  are  mere  skeletons — this  the  life  ;  magnificent 
statues  to  call  forth  the  highest  admiration  from  men  of 
taste  and  feelinif,  but  not  living  thincfs  to  love,  to  rouse  to 
action,  to  point  to  heaven,  to  tell  of  heavenly  things  ;  and 
so  it  is  my  parochial  visitations,  my  prayers  at  sick  beds, 
my  Sabbaths,  my  duties  in  school,  that  crush  me 
most  to  earth.  So  little  real  love  of  God,  so  little  real 
single-heartedness  for  the  magnifying  of  Christ,  so  much 
self-satisfaction,  that  my  only  comfort  is  my  having  a 
good  and  great  High  Priest  Avho  can  bear  the  iniquity 
of  our  holy  things.  Pray,  pray — this  is  tlie  sheet  anchor. 
I  am  going  to  establish  prayer  meetings  when  I  get 
my  new  eldership,  and  I  trust  they  Avill  be  spiritual  con- 
ductors (so  to  s]jeak)  to  bring  down  good  gifts  to  this 
tliirsty  land. 

"  I  had  Lord  Jeffre}'^  in  church.  I  never  had  a  more 
fixed  and  attentive  listener.  Luckily,  I  was  thoroughly 
prepnred.  I  generally  take  eight  hours  to  write  a  ser- 
mon. I  rise  at  six.  I  never  begin  to  commit  until 
Saturday  night — four  readings  do  it.  The  church  is 
crammed  ;  they  are  sitting  outside  the  doors,  and  come 
from  all  quarters.  All  this  is  very  well,  but  what  if  God 
Avithholds  the  blessing  ?  I  pray  He  may  be  glorified. 
I  do  not  understand  your  question.  Answer  me  the 
followincr  : — 

"1.  Do  the  posterity  of  Adam,  unless  saved  by  Christ, 
suffer  final  damnation  on  account  of  Adam's  sin  ?  If  so, 
how  is  this  reconciled  Avith  justice  ? 

"  2.  How  can  we  reconcile  it  with  justice  that  men  should 
come  into  the  world  with  dispositions  so  bad  that  they 
invariably  produce  sin  that  leads  to  damnation  ? 

"  3.  If  the  unregonerate  are  dead  in  sins,  then  all  they 
do  is  sin  ;  therefore,  whatever  they  do  in  that  state  is 
abominable  to  God.  Are  their  exercises  and  strivincrs  so  ? 
their  attendance  on  means  of  grace  ? 

"4.  Is  the  imputation  of  righteousness  the  transfer  of 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN  131 

the  righteousness  itself,  or  are  the  beneficial  consequences 
of  the  righteousness  alone  transferred  ? 

"  Chalmers  came  to  Kilmarnock  to  meet  the  Presbytery. 
It  was  the  old  story.  He  made  a  great  impression.  At 
one  time  how  I  did  laugh  !  He  had  a  bundle  of  letters 
from  colhers,  &c.,  about  Stob  Hill.  He  let  them  all  fall  m 
the  precentor's  box,  where  he  was  standing.  He  disappeared, 
searching  for  them.  At  one  time  you  would  see  his  back, 
at  another  an  elbow,  then  his  head,  reaching  out  the 
cushions  of  the  seat  to  any  one  who  liked  to  take  them  ; 
in  short,  all  topsy-turvy,  and  his  face  as  red  as  a  turkey- 
cock." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

''Oct    lUh. Tempus fugit.     The  stream  of  life  flows 

sensibly  on.      '  I  hear  the  mighty  waters  rolling  evermore.' 

"  Upon  this  day  last  week  (Sabbath)  I  slept  for  the  first 
time  in  my  own  house.  This  to  a  clergyman  is  like 
stepping  on  the  great  table-land  of  life.  To  me  it  is 
especially  so  ;  for,  being  perfectly  satisfied  with  my  lot, 
having  no  ambitious  feehngs  to  gratify,  or  rather,  it  may 
be,  having  too  strong  ambitious  feelings  to  be  satisfied 
with  anything  I  can  ever  reasonably  expect  to  have  m  this 
world  I  consider  myself  fixed  for  life,  be  it  long  or  short. 
Lon<^  I  do  not  expect  it  to  be.  I  am  not  made  for  long 
life.''  I  feel  every  Sunday  that  the  machine  sufters  very 
considerably  from  friction. 

"  27^/1  Juhj.—l  had  a  strange  day  of  visitation.  1  was 
called  in  to  see  a  man  who  had  a  few  hours  before  been 
struck  by  palsy.  On  Sunday  he  was  at  the  Lord's  Table  ; 
to-day  he  is  dying.  He  was  in  a  half  stupor.  He  recog- 
nised me,  and  said,  in  a  low  voice,  with  half-shut  eyes,  '  i 
rely  solely  on  the  merits  of  Christ,  and  Him  crucified  !  1 
hope  my  anchor  is  safe  within  the  vail !  I  hope  so  I'  Came 
home  at  dinner  time,  and  while  I  was  waiting  for  dinner 

I  went  across  to  see  M ,  whom  I  had  seen  yesterday.   1 

"ound  him  alone,  and  weaker  and  more  breathless  than 
when  I  saw  him  last.  I  spoke  to  him  of  Christ,  and 
besought  him   to  close   with   the  offers   of  salvation.      1 

K  2 


132  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

prayed  for  liim  oarnestly,  beseeching  Christ  to  accept 
him.  When  I  was  done,  he  took  my  hand — '  I  thank 
you,'  he  said  ;  '  p — p — pray  for  me  in  private  and  in 
jiuhHc  on  Sunday,  if  I  am  ahve.'  As  I  took  liis  hand, 
I  said,-  '  Why,  now,  can  you  not  take  Chri  -X  as  you 
take  me  ?  He  is  stretching  forth  his  hands,  refuse  Him 
not.      He    is   all-sufficient,   can    give    you    all   you   want, 

and    beseeches    you    to    take.       And    what,     M ,    if 

you  are  dead  before  Sabbath  ?  What  if  you  do  see  Christ  ? 
Would  you  like  to  see  Him  and  his  Apostles  V  I  then 
sent  for  his  daughter  to  sit  beside  him.  I  came  home  and 
fell  on  my  knees  and  prayed  for  him,  as  he  desired.  I 
came  to  my  room.  A  sudden  scream  was  heard.  His 
daughter  had  just  arrived.  Her  father  was  in  eternity  ! 
How  awful  !  Oh,  may  God  stir  me  up  to  greater  diligence 
and  zeal  !  Into  Thy  hands  I  commit  my  soul  and  pari.di ! 
"  Xeiumilns,  Jan.  2,  1839. — I  am  getting  on  here 
slowly,  but,  I  trust,  surely.  I  continue  visiting  regularly, 
and  tind  it  of  much  benefit.  I  am  enabled  always  to  com- 
mence it  by  private  prayer,  and  to  lay  the  different  cases 
before  God  on  my  return.  Yet  it  is  ahvays  mixed  with 
prodigious  formality,  hypocrisy,  and  vam  glory.  Infidelity 
is  getting  rampant,  and  it  was  not  known  to  have  had  so 
extensive  a  hold  in  the  parish  till  I  came  here.  They 
read  Paine  aloud  to  a  party  !  I  grieve,  yet  I  have  no 
fear.  Fear  is  the  child  of  Atheism.  '  The  peoj)le 
imagine  a  vain  thing.  The  Lord  Avill  hold  them  in  deri- 
sion.' There  are  six  things  which  I  hope  may  be  blessed, 
as  useful  instruments  for  doing  good — a  new  church  ; 
second,  an  eldership ;  third,  an  infant  school  ;  fourth, 
prayer  meetings  ;  fifth,  catechetical  diets  ;  sixth,  an  eve- 
ning Sabbath  class  for  young  men  ;  and  I  should  add  ten- 
fold greater  strictness  in  giving  admission  to  the  ordinances 
— 'professing  faith  in  Christ,  and  obedience  to  Him!' 
How  much  is  in  this  !  yet  to  this  we  must  come,  and  by 
God's  grace  I  shall  come,  if  but  one  child  is  baptized  in 
the  year.  Think  only  of  a  man  asking  baptism  for  a 
bastard  child  ;  ho  was  a  communicant ;  and  when  I  asked, 
'  who  was  the  Holy  Ghost  ?'  he  answered,  'I  believe  he  was 
a  man  !' 


EARL Y  MINISTRY  IN  LOUD 0 UN.  1 3 3 

"  I  was  a.t  tlie  Assembly.  I  am,  for  a  wonder,  getting 
modest  on  Church  politics,  and  begin  to  believe  what  I 
often  feared — that  I  know  nothing  about  them.  Yet,  like 
all  who  are  ignorant,  I  have  got  a  superstitious  dread  of 
something  being  wrong  about  the  decisions  of  the  High 
Side.  All  the  old  hands  are  alarmed,  the  young  only 
are  confident.      A  smoke  was  my  only  argument ! " 

To  his  Aunt,  Mrs.  Maxwell  : — 

Loudoun-,  Ainil  22,  1839, 

"  I  have  just  been  looking  out  at  the  window.  There 
is  a  thin,  transparent  mist  along  the  bottom  of  the  valley, 
with  the  tops  of  trees  appearing  above  it,  and  above  them 
the  sky  is  calm  and  blue  ;  the  shrubs  are  all  bursting 
into  life,  and  the  birds  are  busy  in  the  woods,  furnish- 
ing their  manses  with  no  hills  but  their  own.  There 
they  go !  Whit-ee  whit-ee  tui-tu-e-e  chuck-chuck-tirr 
tu-e-e-tirr  tui-tui  roo-too.  If  my  poor  mother  heard 
them,  she  would  say  that  they  would  hurt  their  backs, 
and  that  the}^  were  overworking  their  system.  There  is 
an  old  thrush  opposite  the  window  who  will  sweat  himself 
into  a  bilious  attack,  if  he  does  not  take  care.  The  old 
fool,  I  suppose,  wishes  to  get  married,  or  he  is  practising 
for  some  wedding,  and  is  anxious  to  know  whether  or 
not  he  remembers  all  his  old  songs.  My  blessi.jgs  on 
their  merry  voices.  They  do  one's  heart  good.  How 
exquisitely  does  Christ  point  to  nature,  linking  the  world 
without  to  the  world  wilhin  !  '  Behold  the  fowls  of  the 
air  !'  Yes,  let  us  behold  them  ;  they  are  as  happy  as  the 
day  is  long ;  they  have  survived  a  drear}^  winter  without 
any  care  or  anxiety — and  why  ?  '  Their  heavenly  Father 
feedeth  them.'  How  comforting  the  application,  *  Are  ye 
not  much  better  than  they  ?'  Yes,  verily  ;  nearer  to  God, 
dearer  to  God  ;  His  children,  not  His  birds.  '  Behold  the 
lilies  how  they  grow  ! '  There  they  are,  under  my  window 
in  hundreds  ;  and  yet,  a  short  time  ago  they  were  all  hid 
in  snow,  and  now  Solomon  is  outdone  by  them  in  beauty. 
'  Why  take  ye  thought  for  raiment  ? '  God,  that  gave  the 
life,  can  give  the  meat  ;  He  who  gave  the  body  can  give 
the  clothing.      He  who  takes  care  of  birds  and  flowers,  will 


134  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

take  care  of  His  own  children.  *  Wherefore  do  ye  doubt? ' 
He  knoweth  we  need  those  things  ;  if  He  does  so,  if  He 
cares  for  us,  Avhy  should  we  care  ?  Let  us  seek,  first,  His 
kingdom  and  righteousness  as  the  way  to  it ;  and  God,  who 
cannot  lie,  says,  '  All  these  things  shall  be  added  unto  you  ' 
— '  added  ' — given  over  and  above.  Oh  !  that  we  felt  that 
the  best  and  only  sure  way  of  getting  things  of  this  world  was 
first  to  attend  to  the  things  of  another,  then  we  would  take 
no  disquieting  or  uneasy  thoughts  about  the  future.  Each 
day  comes  with  its  own  cares,  which  need  no  increase  by 
adding  to  them  the  cares  of  the  next.  '  Sufficient,  indeed, 
is  each  day's  evil  for  itself,  and  with  each  day  is  strength 
for  the  cares  of  that  day,  though  no  strength  is  promised 
to  relieve  us  from  the  additional  cares  we  gather  in  from 
the  morrow.'  How  few  receive  the  real  practical  benefits 
of  these  truths — these  precious  promises ;  and  why  ? 
They  do  not  believe  that  their  interests  are  in  safe  keeping 
in  God's  hands.  They  do  not  permit  Him,  unreservedly, 
to  choose  their  inheritance  for  them.  They  have  '  excepts ' 
for  the  moment.  You  see  the  effects  of  preaching  three 
sermons  on  Sunday — I  preach  a  fourth  on  Monday. 

"  My  father  talks  of  going  to  Ireland  in  ten  days  ;  if  he 
does,  I  go  with  him.  Everything  goes  on  well  in  the 
parish — lots  to  do.  The  Manse  is  looking  beautiful. 
Spring  is  the  finest  of  all  the  seasons.  Hope  is  its 
genius." 

Dr.  Macleod,  Sen.,  to  Mrs.  Gray  : — 

Belfast,  Tue&dny  and  Wednesday  (what  day  of  the 
month,  I  know  not),  June,  1839. 

"  Norman,  Clerk,  and  I,  set  out  on  Monday  evening,  on 
the  self-same  day  on  which  you  left  for  the  Isle  of  Mist — 
we  for  '  the  sweet  Isle  of  the  Ocean,'  the  green,  the 
charming  Emerald  Isle.  The  word  was  given,  '  Set  on,'  and 
on  we  went,  splash,  splash.  A  noble  boat  the  Bapld.  Wo 
sailed  as  on  a  mirror — ocean  reflecting  the  loveliness  of  the 
stars,  the  young  moon,  the  Craig  of  Ailsa,  and  my  face  ! 
We  left  the  blue  hills  of  Arran  sleeping  in  calm  serenity 
on  the  face  of  the  mighty  deep,  and  Lamlash  Isle  like  an 
infant  in  its  bosom. 


EARLV  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN. 


135 


"  We  had  a  most  delightful  sail  np  to  Belfast  on  Tues- 
day morning.  Reached  it  at  eight  o'clock,  and  went  to  the 
Synod.  Norman  and  Clerk  got  a  car  and  set  off  for  Lis- 
burn  ;  from  that  to  Loch  Neagh,  Lord  O'Neile's  place. 
I  was  received  at  the  Synod  with  cheers.  I  attended 
two  days,  made  a  long  speech,  and  heard  most  heart- 
cheering  tidings  of  my  Irish  Psalms.  I  was  much  gratified, 
Norman  returned  on  Wednesday  evening  literally  daft  ;  he 
laughed  till  he  could  laugh  no  more  ;  he  tried  to  pass  off 
as  an  Irish  wit  among  the  beggars  and  people,  but  was 
beat  to  nothing  by  every  man,  woman,  and  child  he  met. 
They  utterly  confounded  him.  He  met  a  bird-seller  ;  he 
carried  a  fine  blackbird,  with  a  large  yellow  bill.  '  What 
hill  is  that  you  are  carrying  through  ?  Is  it  the  Appropria- 
tion Bill,  or  the  Emancipation  Bill  ?'  '  'Dad,  yer  honour,' 
said  Pat,  '  it  is  neither  the  one,  nor  yet  the  t'other,  but  a 
better  Bill  than  either ;  'tis  the  Orange  Bill.'  He  came 
up  shortly  afterwards  to  a  poor  man  who  had  on  a 
pair  of  wretched  shoes,  which  he  was  endeavouring  to  drag 


Who  made  your   shoes, 


after  him,  but  no  stockings, 
friend  ? '  said  Norman.  '  He 
did  not  take  your  mea- 
sure well'  '  Troth,  yer 
honour,  he  did  not ;  but 
look  at  my  stockings,'  said 
ho,  clapping  the  bare  skin 
— '  My  own  darling  mother's 
stockings.  Och,  but  it  is 
themselves  that  fit!'  He 
got  many  other  ridiculous 
answers  of  the  same  kind. 
Adieu!" 

To  Hs  Sister  Jane  : — 


"  With  my  eyes  half-shut 
can  I  write  thee  ?  With  a 
halo  round  the  candle  can 
I  write  thee  ?  *  Yes  I  ' 
cjied   Roderick.       '  And   give    my    love,    and    point    out 


'36 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


the  new  buttons  I 
have  got  on  my 
coat  ;  and  give  her 
a   view 


my  bonnet  ;  and 
sliow  lier  also  my 
coat  ;  and  my  trou- 
sers— 


To  Eev.  A.  Clerk  : — 

"  We  had  a  f'rand  soiree  in  Glas<?ow  for  a  Con'n'ega- 
tiona]  libi-ary.  I  made  a  horrid  fool  of  myself,  i.e.  stuck 
in  my  speech.  No  one  saw  it,  but  all  allowed  I  had  done 
Fciontifically  ill.  It  was  a  splendid  soiree.  But  I  hate 
them.  How  can  a  man  speak  in  an  atmosphere  composed 
of  orange  acid — the  fumes  of  tea  and  toast,  boiling  water, 
l)eat  reek  and  gas,  blown  into  a  hurricane  by  the  bag- 
pipes ?  A  soiree  I  take  to  be  a  sort  of"  Evangelical 
theatre,  \vhere  the  ministers  are  the  actors,  and  the  stage 
need  not  be  jealous." 

From  his  JouilNAL  :— 

''June,  1839. —  ....  Luckily  Puseyism,  while  it  is 
eating  the  vitals  of  the  Church  of  England,  has  made  no 
advances  in  lueland  of  any  consequence.  It  is  too  much 
like  Rome.  I  have  a  horror  for  Puseyism.  I  fear  it  is  of 
more  danger  to  religion  than  Voluntaryism.  We  are  not 
yet  alive  to  the  imj)ortance  of  the  controversj'^  in  Scotland. 

"  Thank  God  for  our  Scottish  Reformers.  They  lived 
far,  far  ahead  of  their  age.      The  position  which  they  occu- 


EARLY  MIXISTRF  IN  LOUDOUN.  137 

pied  was  liiglily  scientific.  I  do  think  tliat  tlie  Church  of 
Scotland,  from  her  doctrine,  worship,  &c.,  is  of  all  churches 
the  hest  fitted  to  grapple  with  the  spirit  of  the  age.  Sha 
cannot  be  reformed.  We  are  skinned  down  to  essentials  — 
so  much  the  better.  '  Poor  Ireland  ! '  Poor  for  what  ? 
Nothing  but  the  want  of  princi25le.  Of  what  avail  is  it  to 
put  a  maniac  in  a  palace,  a  demoniac  in  a  church  ?  They 
endeavour  to  reform  men  by  putting  better  coats  on  their 
backs,  A  man  must  have  hell  taken  out  of  himself  before 
he  can  be  said  to  be  out  of  hell. 

"  2nd  August,  1839. — We  had  a  most  delightful  Com- 
munion Sabbath.  Anything  more  quiet,  beautiful,  and 
solemn  I 'never  witnessed. 

"Rory'"'  must  not  think  all  negligent  but  himself  I 
was  forced  to  exclude  fourteen  from  the  communion  this 
year  who  were  open  enemies,  notorious  drunkards,  and 
such  like  ;  but  God  forbid  that  I  should  exclude  any  man 
who  has  nothing  in  his  external  conduct  which  is  incon- 
sistent with  his  being  a  Christian.  Bad  habits  are  the  only 
true  test. 

"  My  father  preached  on  a  lovely  summer's  evening  to 
about  three  thousand  people  in  the  tent.t  Not  a  sound 
but  of  praise,  and  the  voice  of  the  preacher. 

''Dec.  2'ird  (the  anniversary  of  his  brothers  death). — 
I  think  I  may  defy  time  to  blot  out  all  that  occurred 
in  December,  '33.  That  warm  room;  the  large  bed  with 
the  blue  curtains  ;  the  tall,  thin  boy  with  the  pale  face 
and  jet  black  speaking  eyes  and  long,  curly  hair ;  the 
anxious  mother ;  the  silent  steps  ;  then  the  loss  of  hope. 
The  last  scene  !  Oh,  my  brother,  my  dear,  dear  brother ! 
if  thou  seest  me,  thou  knowest  how  I  cherish  thy  memory. 
Yes,  Jamie,  I  will  never  forget  you.  If  I  live  to  be  an  old 
man,  you  will  be  fresh  and  blooming  in  my  memory.  My 
soul  rejoices  in  being  able  to  entertain  the  hope  that  I 
shall  see  you  in  heaven  !  What  days  of  darkness  and 
ingratitude  have  I  spent  since    I   thought   I  was  God's  I 

*  His  cousin,  the  Eev.  Eodevick  Macleod,  in  Skye,  who  was  notori- 
ous for  his  strict  exercise  of  ecclesiastical  discipline. 

f  A  sort  of  covered  pulpit  put  up  in  the  open  air,  from  which  the 
clergyman  preaches  when  the  crowd  is  too  gruat  for  the  church. 


I  j8  LIFE  OF  AORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Omnipotent  God,  Fatlior  of  mercies,  sliiekl,  bucklpr,  and 
strong  tower  to  all  thy  people,  take  me  to  thyself  keep 
me,  save  me  ;  but  oh !  never,  never,  I  beseech  Thee  leave 
me  to  myself,  until  I  join  all  thy  children  in  heaven 

"  Bless  the  Lord,  O  my  soul,  and  be  not  forgetful    )f  all 
his  gracious  benefits  ! " 


FROM    LINKS    TO    A    SLEEPING    SISTER. 
*  *  *  4fr 

Yet  meekly  yield  when  thou  must  drink 
The  righteous  cup  of  human  sorrow  ; 

For  patient  suti"ring  is  the  link 

Which  binds  us  to  a  glorious  morrow. 


"Jan.  9th,  1840. — This  day  received  tidings  of  Lady 
Hastings*  death.  I  feel  my  loss.  A  chain  is  broken  which 
bound  me  with  others  to  the  parish.  She  was  a  deeply 
affectionate  and  most  captivating  woman.  I  received  the 
following  letter  from  Lady  Sophia,'''''  written  just  before  her 
death  : — 

Kelburne,  Thursday  Night,  Jantiary  9,  1840. 

*' '  When  this  letter  is  given  to  you  my  poor  Mother  Avill 
be  at  rest ;  but  for  fear  that  the  new  flood  of  affliction 
should  overwhelm  me  and  make  me  incapable  of  fulfilling 
my  duty  immediately,  1  will  write  this  now,  that  there 
may  be  no  delay,  as  you  must  receive  it  as  soon  as  possible. 
When  my  Father  died.  He  desired  His  right  hand  should  be 
amputated  and  carried  from  Malta  to  be  buried  with  my 
Mother,  as  they  could  not  lie  in  the  same  grave,  as  He  had 
once  promised  Her.  His  hand  is  in  the  vault  at  Loudoun 
Kirk,  I  am  told,  in  a  small  box,  with  the  key  hanging  to  it. 
My  Mother  entrusted  you  with  the  key  of  the  vault,  and 
begged  you  would  give  it  to  no  one.      May  I  request  you 

•  Afterwards  married  to  John,  Second  Marquess  of  Bute,  and 
mother  of  the  present  liord  Bute.  The  marriugo  ceremony  was 
performed  by  Norman  Macltod. 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  139 

to  Qfo  to  Loudoun  Kirk  and  take  out  the  box  and  brin<?  il. 
here  to  me  yourself,  and  deliver  it  into  my  hands  yourself^ 
should  my  brother  not  have  arrived  ?  And  I  believe  there 
must  he  no  delay — a  few  hours,  I  am  told,  will  end  Her 
suffering  and  begin  our  desolation.' 

"  I  received  the  letter  early  on  Friday  morning  ;  in  half 
an  hour  I  was  at  Loudoun  Kirk.  It  was  a  calm,  peaceful, 
winter's  morning,  and  by  twelve  I  was  at  Kelburne." 

To  the  Eev.  A.  Clerk,  Aharacle : — 

January  28,  1840. 

"  I  am  very  happy  here — though  the  death  of  dear  Lady 
Hastings  has  made  a  great  change  to  me.  I  assure  you 
that  few  events  have  given  me  more  sincere  sorrow  than 
this.  I  received  intelligence  at  seven  upon  Friday  morning 
that  she  was  near  her  end.  It  was  quite  unexpected  ;  and 
you  know  what  a  sickening  thing  it  is  to  be  awakened  with 
bad  news.  I  was  requested  by  Lady  Sophia  instantly  to 
go  to  Loudoun  Kirk  and  get  her  father's  hand  from  the 
vault  and  bring  it  to  her.  In  half  an  hour  I  was  in  the 
drear}^  place,  where,  but  six  months  ago,  I  was  standing 
with  Lady  H.  beside  me.  When  I  contrasted  the  scene 
of  death  within,  the  mouldering  coffins  and  '  weeping 
vault,'  with  the  peaceful  morning  and  singing  birds — for  a 
robin  was  singing  sweetly — it  was  sad  and  choking.  I 
was  glad  to  be  with  the  dear  young  ladies  the  first  day 
of  their  grief.  They  were  all  alone.  They  have  been 
greatly  sanctified  by  their  trials.  They  remain  at  Loudoun, 
I  am  glad  to  say.      Lord  and  Lady  H.  are  here  at  present. 

"As  to  non-intrusion,  I  am  persuaded  you  are  wrong. 
The  high  party  is  destroying  the  Church," 

From  his  JOURNAL  : — 

''February,  1840. — The  question  of  non-intrusion  is 
agitating  Scotland.  This  is  the  day  for  trying  principles. 
The  extreme  views  of  truly  good  and  spiritual  men  in 
the  Church,  and  those  of  truly  bad  and  material  men  in 
the  State,  will  bring  on  a  gale  which  will  capsize  her. 


140  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"June  29//i. — 1  have  just  returned  from  seeing  (lie 
most  inclancholy  sight  I  have  ever  yet  witnessed — a 
determined,    hardened     infidel    on    the    very    confines    of 

eternity  !     I  met  this  unfortunate  man,  T G ,  for 

tlie  first  time  wlien  I  was  visiting  the  parish  ;  he  seemed 
careless  and  dead,  but  did  not  i)rofess  infidelity. 

"  I  was  again  called  to  see  him  on  my  return  here  in 
May,  after  havino^  been  about  a  month  absent  in  bad 
health.  He  was  evidently  dying  of  consumption.  He 
was  greatly  emaciated,  but  could  converse  easily,  and 
seemed  to  be  able  to  express  himself  with  clearness.  I 
had  heard  of  his  having  avowed  infidel  sentiments,  and  I 
knew  his  brother  to  be  one  of  the  baser  sort,  filling  up  all 
the  degrees  of  blackguardism  between   a   poacher   and  a 

blasphemer.      C spoke  freely  to  me  of  his  opinions,  if 

opinions  they  could  be  called.  He  had  met  with  some 
of  the  lowest  kind  of  infidel  productions  ;  his  whole  idea 
of  truth  was  distorted.  He  seemed  to  doubt  the 
existence  of  God,  the  immortality  of  the  human  soul, 
everything  which  could  influence  him  as  a  responsible 
being.  I  saw  him  repeatedly.  I  sat  with  him  one  or  two 
hours  at  a  time.  I  read  the  Bible  to  him,  gave  him  the 
evidence  in  detail,  and,  by  his  own  acknowledgment, 
fairly  answered  all  his  objections  ;  but  in  vain.  He  Avas 
calm,  dead.  The  very  question  did  not  seem  to  interest 
him.  Every  warning,  every  invitation,  was  to  him  alike. 
His  features  changed  not ;  he  was  neither  pleased  nor 
angry  ;  and  yet  he  knew  he  had  not  many  weeks  to  live. 
He  was  the  most  terrible  instance  I  ever  saw  of  the 
evil  heart  of  unbelief,  hardened  through  the  deceitfulness 
of  sin.  I  have  seen  him  for  the  last  time  to-day  ;  he  was 
a  breathing  corpse.  Death  had  stamped  every  feature. 
He  bent  his  eye  on  me  as  I  entered,  and  motioned  me  to 
come  in.  I  gazed  at  him  for  some  time  with  inexpres- 
sible feelings.  There  he  lay,  an  immortal  being — a  sinner 
going  to  meet  his  God,  after  having  again  and  again 
rejected  a  Saviour.  I  prayed  with  his  wife,  and  one 
or  two  who  were  present.  I  then  went  to  his  bed. 
I  said,  '  Before  I  go  have  you  nothing  to  say  ?  '  I 
wished  to  give  him  the  opportunity  of  expressing  his  faith 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  141 

in  Christ,  if  he  had  any  ;  but  he  Hfted  up  his  skeleton 
hand,  and  pointed  out,  '  No,  no  ;  noth — nothing  ! '  As  1 
write  this  his  soul  may  be  taking  flight.  May  God  have 
mercy  on  him. 

"  He  w  often  do  I  speculate  about  writing  books !  I 
have  thought  of  three  ;  I  generally  think  over  a  chapter  ol 
one  of  them  when  I  have  nothing  else  to  do." 

His  sister  Annie,  who  had  been  for  some  months 
seriously  ill,  and  was  sent  to  Loudoun  for  change  of 
air,  became  at  this  time  rapidly  worse,  and  expired  in 
his  Manse. 

''Sefptemher  5th,  10  o'clock — I  have  this  moment  re- 
turned from  the  next  room,  after  seeing  my  darling 
sister  Annie  expire.  She  had  suffered  much  for  three  days; 
but  her  last  moments  were  comparatively  tranquil,  at 
least,  those  who  have  seen  people  die  said  so  ;  but  I 
never  saw  any  one  die  before.  We  were  summoned  to 
her  bedside  suddenly.  When  I  came,  all  were  there.  I 
prayed  a  short,  ejaculatory  prayer,  that  our  Father  would 
take  His  child  ;  that  Christ,  the  dear  Redeemer,  would 
be  hers.      My  darling  died  at  half-past  nine. 

"  Darling  Annie  was  loved  by  us  all.     She  was  a  sweet 

child  ;  her  face  was  beautifully  mild  and  peaceful.      She 

had  the  most  gentle,  playful,  peaceful,  innocent  manners, 

with  feelings  singularly  deep  and  strong  for  her  age.      Her 

sensibility   was  painful  in  its  acuteness.     She  was  Hke  a 

delightful  presence — 

"  '  An  image  gay, 
A  thing  to  startle  and  waylay.' 

She  was  a  sunbeam  that  gladdened  our  path,  and  we 
were  hardly  conscious  of  how  lovely  and  how  evanescent 
a  thing  it  Avas  until  it  disappeared.  Her  innocent  laugh 
is  still  in  my  ears.  Dead  !  Oh,  what  a  mystery  !  It 
was  only  when,  two  hours  after  her  death,  I  knelt  at 
my  old  chair,  and  cried  to  Jesus,  that  I  felt  myself 
human  once  more,  and  as  I  gave  vent  to  a  flood  of  tears 


142  LIFE  OF  NORMA  N  MA  CL  EOD. 

the  ice  that  for  months  had  chilled  my  soul  ^v,'^s  melted  • 
I  felt  again. 

"September  IGth. — Upon  Friday  the  11th  dear  Annie 
was  buried.  I  look  back  uj)on  the  week  she  lay  with  us 
v'ith  a  sort  of  solemn  joy.  It  was  a  holy  week.  The 
blessing  of  God  seemed  upon  the  house.  Friday  was  a  very 
impressive  day.  Mr.  Gray,  Jack,  and  my  father  and  I,  went 
together  from  Glasgow  to  Campsie.  Our  old  friends  mot  us 
at  the  entrance  of  Lennoxtown.  It  seemed  but  as  yesterday 
when  we  had  in  mournful  procession  passed  up  that  path 
before.  The  hills  were  the  same.  The  same  shadows 
seemed  chasing  one  another  over  their  green  sides  as  had 
often  filled  me  with  happy  thoughts  in  my  young  days. 
Yet  how  freshly  did  the  text  come  into  my  mind,  'The 
mountains  shall  depart,  and  the  hills  be  removed,  but  my 
kindness  shall  not  depart  from  thee,  neither  shall  the 
covenant  of  my  peace  be  removed,  saith  the  Lord  that 
hath  mercy  on  thee.'  This  relieved  my  oppressed  heart. 
I  felt  that  amidst  all  the  changes  around  me,  God,  and 
God's  love,  were  the  same  yesterday,  to-day,  and  for  ever. 
What  a  glorious  thing  is  Revelation  !  '  Christ  died,  and 
rose  again.'  '  He  died  for  us.'  '  He  rose  as  the  first 
fruits  of  those  who  sleep.'  There  is  more  wisdom,  more 
comfort,  more  to  heal,  soothe,  elevate  the  spirit  of  man 
in  these  facts  than  in  all  that  the  concentrated  wisdom 
of  man  could  oft'er." 

To  liis  Mother  : — 

Loudoun,  1841. 

"  I  have  been,  and  will  be,  if  God  spares  me,  this  win- 
ter very  busy  educating  both  myself  and  my  parish ; 
but  I  never  felt  myself  in  more  buo3\ant  health  and 
spirits.  I  have  finished  the  second  visitation  of  Darvel 
and  Newmilns — that  is,  about  seven  thousand  people — 
since  I  came  to  the  parish.  On  Sabbath  Aveek  our  service 
begins  at  twelve,  and  from  ten  till  half-past  eleven  I  am 
to  have  a  Sabbath  School,  which  I  hope  will  be  attended 
by  six  hundred  children.  Thus,  between  my  school  in  the 
morning,  and  sermon  at  mid-day  and  at  night,  I  will  be  able 
to   preach   the  Gospel  to  all  in  my  parish  !     Is  not  this 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  143 

famous  ?  I  have,  besides  my  old  Wednesd.'.y  eA'-enirifi 
meeting,  a  class  for  youug  men  on  Tuesday  evenings  lor 
instruction  in  the  evidences  of  Christianity.  I  am  now 
going  through  the  prophecies.  The  family  of  the  chief 
infidel  are  among  my  scholars.  This  seems  hard  work, 
but  I  assure  you  I  am  taking  it  very  easy.  There  is  not 
a  blacksmith,  or  labourer,  or  weaver  in  the  parish  who  does 
not  do  ten  times  more  for  time  than  I  do  for  eternity. 
People  talk  a  great  deal  of  stuff  about  minister's  work,  or 
rather  they  talk  a  great  deal  of  stuff  themselves.  I  Avould 
do  more,  but  quality  and  not  quantity  is  what  I  wish. 
To  show  you  how  much  idle  time  I  have,  besides  walking, 
and  teaching  a  starling  to  speak,  I  have  read,  1st, 
Guizot's  '  History  of  Civilisation  ;'  2nd,  Arago's  'Treatise 
on  Astronomy  ;'  3rd,  Taylor's  '  Lectures  on  Spiritual 
Christianity ;'  4th,  '  Campbell  of  Kingsland,  Life  and 
Times  ;'  and  I  have  nearly  done  with  the  fifth  volume 
of  Gibbon— all  during  the  last  five  weeks  !  This  shows 
you  what  a  luxurious  dog  I  am. 

"  I  have  just  mentioned  my  starling  !  You  never  saAV  a 
more  beautiful  bird  ;  and  he  goes  fiying  about  the  room, 
and  sits  on  my  head,  and  eats  out  of  my  hand.  I  am 
teaching  him  to  speak. 

"  I  wrote  Lord  Hastings  a  very  long  and  earnest  letter 
about  the  church,  but  have  received  no  answer.  I 
shall  do  my  duty,  and  use  every  lawful  means  to  get  a 
church  for  my  poor  people,  come  what  may. 

"  There  is  a  book  I  wish  you  would  order  for  your 
Reading  Club — Dr.  Payne  of  Exeter's  Lectures  on  the  Sove- 
reignty of  God.  It  has  revolutionised  my  mind.  It  is  a 
splendid  book,  and  demonstrates  the  universality  of  the 
atonement,  and  its  harmony  with  election." 

From  his  Jottrnal  ■— 

"July  4!th. — I  went  to  Glasgow  on  Tuesday  to  meet 
two  sons  of  Sir  Robert  Peel's.  Fine  lads,  fresh  with 
honours  from  Harrow.  But  I  mention  this  fact  to  show 
how  unsettled  my  mind  is,  for  it  upset  my  good  thoughts 
— I  mean,  made  me  neglect  the  means  of  grace,  and  so  I 


144  LIFE  OF  NOFMAN  MACLEOD. 

got  for  a  <l;iy  into  my  old  way.      God  forgive  me  !      I  look 
back  on  tlic  last  month  as  to  an  oasis," 

In  sending  the  following  letter,  Principal  Shairp 
writes  : — 

"  All  the  remainder  of  his  time  in  Loudoun  I  kept  up 
correspondence  with  Norman  from  Oxford.  Those  were 
the  years  from  1840  to  1844,  when  the  Oxford  movement 
reached  its  climax.  Often,  when  any  pamphlet  more  than 
usually  striking  came  out — No.  90,  and  others — I  would 
send  them  to  Norman,  and  would  receive  from  him  a 
reply  commenting  on  them  from  his  own  point  of  view. 
That,  I  need  hardly  say,  was  not  in  accordance  with  the 
Oxford  views.  It  was  not  only  that  he  rejected  the  sacer- 
dotal theory  on  which  the  whole  movement  was  founded, 
— not  only  that,  as  a  Scotchman  and  a  Presbyterian  minis- 
ter, he  could  not  be  expected  to  welcome  the  view  which 
made  his  own  church  '  Samaria,'  and  handed  himself  and 
his  people  over  to  the  '  uncovenanted  mercies ; '  but  I  used 
to  think  that  neither  then,  nor  afterwards,  he  ever  did  full 
justice  to  the  higher,  more  inward  quality  of  Newman's 
teaching,  that  those  marvellous  '  Parochial  Sermons '  never 
penetrated  him  as  they  did  others.  That  sad  undertone 
of  feeling,  that  severe  and  ascetic  piety,  which  had  so 
great  a  charm  for  many,  awoke  in  Norman  but  little  sym- 
pathy " 

To  John  C.  Shairp,  Esq.,  at  Oxford:— 

21th  March. 

"  "Well,  what  think  you  of  Puseyism  now  ?  You  have 
read  No.  90,  of  course  ;  you  have  read  the  article  on 
Transubstantiation — you  have  read  it !  Great  heavens  ! 
Is  this  1841?  I  have  drawn  the  following  conclusions 
from  this  precious  document,  and  from  Newman's  letter  to 
Jelf  :— 

"  1.  The  Articles  menu  nothincr. 

"  2.  Any  man  may  sign  them  conscientiously,  be  he 
Calviuist  or  moderate  Romanist,  only  let  him  not  oppose 
them  openly. 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  145 

"  3.  No  Oxford  man  need  go  to  Ilomanism  either  to  adoro 
(doulia)  images,  or  praise  the  Blessed  Virgin,  or  get  a  lift 
from  the  saints,  or  gratify  himself  by  doing  works  of 
penance — he  may  get  all  this  in  a  quiet  way  at  Oxford. 

"  4.  The  Anglican  system  and  the  Popish  system,  as 
explained  by  the  Council  of  Trent,  are  '  uko,  so  very  like 
as  day  to  day,'  that,  but  for  a  few  fleecy  clouds  of  no  great 
consequence,  a  Catholic  mind  would  never  see  the  dif- 
ference. 

"5.  No.  90  is  a  dispatch  to  tlie  Popish  army  to  send 
a  few  moderate  bnttalions  to  sup]3ort  the  Anglican  Church 
in  its  flank  movement  to  the  left  from  the  cot])S  darinee 
of  Protestantism. 

"  And  what  is  all  this  to  end  in  ? 

"  The  formation  of  an  Anglo-Popish  Church,  independent 
of  the  State  ? 

"  The  consequent  breaking  up  of  Church  Establish- 
ments ? 

"  The  formation  of  two  Churches — a  moderate  Episco- 
pacy connected  with  the  State,  and  another,  '  the  Angli- 
can Church,'  by  itself  ? 

"  An  accession  to  the  ranks  of  dissent  ? 

"  The  strengthening  of  Popery,  and  the  battle  of  Arma 
geddon  ?  " 


NOTES  AND  THOUGHTS  FROM  READING,  THINKING, 
AND  LAUGHING. 

LoUDOUN',  Novemher  1,  1840. 

"Under  the  influence  of  one  of  those  whims  Avhieh 
sometimes  act  upon  me  like  a  breeze  upon  a  windmill,  I 
this  Saturday  night,  27th  February,  1841,  open  this  book 
(being  at  present,  with  the  exception  of  what  goeth  before, 
as  yet  empty,  albeit  it  is  called  a  P)Ook  for  Notes  and 
Thoughts),  for  what  reason  I  can  hardly  tell,  except  it 
be:— 

"  1.  The  wish  to  put  on  record  a  strong  suspicion  I  now 
begin  to  entertain — viz.  that  I  have  no  thoughts  which 
can  stand  inspection,  better  than  did  Mouldy  or  Mr.  Forcible 
Feeble,  the  woman's  tailor,  before  Falstaif. 

VOL.  I.  L 


1^6  LIFE  UF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

"  2.  To  put  to  the  proof  one  of  those  sayings  which 
nif  n  l)elieve,  hke  '  great  laws,'  that  a  work  begun  is  half 
tluiio.      We  shall  see." 


June,  I&4]. 

"  On  the  Salv ability  of  the  Heathen. — That  no  soul 
is  saved  except  through  the  blood  of  Christ,  and  that  no 
soul  is  saved  without  belief  in  Christ,  are  not  equally  true 
propositions  ;  for,  if  so,  all  infants  would  be  dannied. 
Now,  as  all  admit  that  infants  may  without  faith  (of  which 
they  are  incapable  from  their  age)  be  saved  by  having  the 
benefits  of  Christ's  death  imputed  to  them,  so,  for  aught 
we  know,  heathen,  who  are  incapable  of  faith  from  their 
circumstances,  mav  have  the  benefits  of  Christ's  death  in 
the  same  manner,  and  so  their  natural  piety  will  be  the 
effect  and  not  the  cause  of  God's  showing  mercy  to  them. 
AVe  preach  to  such  because  we  are  commanded.  God  may 
raise  a  sick  man  by  a  miracle ;  but  our  duty  is  to  use  the 
appointed  means." 


"  A  day  of  fasting  ff)r  the  sins  of  the  Church  has  been 
appointed  by  the  General  Assembly  to  be  kept  on  the 
22nd  of  June,  1841.  I  fear  some  will  add  to  its  sin  by 
fathering  the  most  heinous  faults  upon  those  who  oj^pose 
them  in  Church  politics.  One  rule,  I  think,  should  be 
strictly  kept  to  in  determining  what  are  sins — viz.,  those 
upon  which  all  Christians  will  agree.  There  may  be  dis- 
putes about  facts — e.g.,  as  to  whether  the  Church  is 
covetous  or  not — but  there  should  be  no  disputes  as  to 
wliether  that  is  sin  or  not.  This  rule  would  exclude  con- 
fessions anent  patronage,  intrusion,  &c.  The  Church 
should  have  drawn  up  a  form  of  prayer,  and  of  con- 
fession— a  unanimous  one.  The  sins  I  consider  as  being 
the  most  marked  in  the  Church  at  present  are :  1. 
Covetousness — only  £20,000  from  the  whole  Church  for 
the  cause  of  Christ ;  not  £20  from  each  parish  !  2.  Too 
much  mingling  of  the  Church  with  the  world;  not  separa- 
tion enough.  3.  Schism  among  Christians,  and  wrong 
terms   of  commuuion.      4.    Stiift\    bitt(>rness,    and    party 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  147 

spirit ;  a  want  of  charity  and  love  ;  a  not  suffering  for 
conscience-sake,  5.  Too  much  dependence  on  externals, 
acts  of  Assembly  anent  calls,  &c." 


"  The  Church  visible  is  to  the  Church  invisible  what  the 
body  is  to  the  spirit — the  medium  of  communication 
with  the  external  world.  As  the  body  without  the  soul 
is  dead,  though  it  may  look  life-like,  even  so  is  the  visible 
Church  without  the  invisible.  The  Presbyterians,  I  think, 
legislated  too  transcendentally  for  the  Church.  We  forgot 
bow  much  we  are  taught  by  visible  things.  We  did  not 
sufficiently  value  symbols.  Popery  makes  the  Cliurch 
a  body  altogether.  We  forget  too  much  that  there  is  a 
visible  Church  ;  they,  that  there  is  an  invisible. 

"  As  jor  Church  government,  I  always  look  on  it  as  a 
question  of  dress,  of  clothes — or,  rather,  of  spectacles. 
What  suits  one  eye  won't  suit  another.  What  signiHes 
whether  a  man  reads  with  the  gold  spectacles  of  Episcopacy 
or  with  the  silver  ones  of  Presbytery  or  with  the  pinchbeck 
ones  of  Independence,  provided  he  does  read,  and  reads 
better  too  with  the  one  kind  than  the  other,  and  does  not 
blind  himself  with  the  goggles  of  Popery  ?  Though  I 
hate  schism,  yet  I  do  think  that  different  governments  are 
ordered  in  the  wisdom  of  God,  who  knoweth  our  frame 
and  remembers  we  are  dust,  to  suit  the  different  con- 
ditions of  man.  One  man  is  born  with  huge  veneration 
like  a  ridge  on  his  head,  ideality  like  hillocks  ;  another 
with  neither  of  these  bumps,  but  in  their  stead  causality 
or  reasoning  like  potatoes,  firmness  like  Ailsa  Craig ; 
another  with  combativeness,  self-esteem,  and  love  of  appro- 
bation, like  hen-eggs.  Is  it  not  a  blessing  that  there  is 
for  the  one  an  old  cathedral  with  stone  knights  and  'case- 
ments pictured  fair,"  and  seats  worn  with  successive  gene- 
rations, and  a  fine  l)ald-headed  prelate  ;  and  that  another 
can  get  a  Presbyterian  Church  that  will  stand  firm 
against  Erastus,  Court  of  Session,  Kings,  Lords,  and 
Commons,  and  can  hear  long  metaphysical  sermons 
canvassing  every  system ;  and  that  the  last  can  have 
his    say    in    an    Independent   church,    and     battle    with 

L  2 


hS  life  of  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

jniiiistor  and  elder  :  while,  in  each,  they  can  hear  what 
will  iiiiike  them  wise  unto  salvation  ?  All  are  spcctiioles 
for  dirterent  eyes  ;  and  why  fight  ? — why  force  a  man  to 
see  through  your  concave,  or  be  forced  to  read  through 
his  convex  ?      You  will  both  read  wrong,  or  not  read  at  all. 

"  I  hate  schism.  It  is  a  great  sin  to  have  a  visible 
Cliurch  unless  you  feel  that  it  is  only  a  door  to  the  in- 
visible one. 

"  To  reform  Presbyterianism  is  like  the  attempt  to  skin 
a  flint."  

"I  read  lately  a  very  interesting  book  published  by  the 
Abbotsford  Club  ;  viz.,  '  Records  of  the  Presbytery  of 
Lanark  from  1G32  till  1701.'  It  is,  I  presume,  a  fair 
type  of  what  the  Church  then  Avas  ;   and  if  so  ! — 

"  The  Church  then  wished  to  make  the  Church  the  State, 
and  the  State  the  Church.  The  men  in  those  days  had 
no  idea  of  true  liberty.  Toleration  is  a  modern  idea. 
Their  maxims  Avere  :  1  You  have  liberty  to  think  what 
is  right,  but  none  to  think  what  is  wrong.  We  (the 
Church)  are  to  judge  what  is  right  ;  ergo,  you  can  think 
only  as  Ave  permit  you  (see  also  '  Confession  of  Faith,' 
chap.  XX.,  last  clause).  They  were  a  grossly  superstitious 
set.  The  above  Presbytery  frequently  incarcerated  Avitches, 
and  sent  for  a  great  ally  of  theirs,  a  certain  '  George 
Catley,  Pricker,'  to  riddle  the  old  women  with  pins  to  find 
out  the  mark  of  Satan.  And  yet  to  these  men  Ave  must 
go  for  wisdom  to  guide  us  in  1841  !  Mercy  forbid  !  I  am 
thankful  to  have  none  such  Presbyterian  inquisitors. 

"  The  tendency  of  ultra-Calvinism  (if  not  its  necessary 
result)  is  to  fill  the  mind  Avith  dark  views  of  the  Divine 
character  ;  to  represent  Him  as  grudging  to  make  men 
liappy  ;  as  exacting  from  Christ  stripe  for  stripe  that  the 
sinner  deserved.  Hence  a  Calvinistic  fanatic  has  the 
same  scoAvling,  dark,  unloA'ing  soul  as  a  Franciscan  or 
Dominican  fanatic  Avho  Avhips  himself  daily  to  please 
Deity.  They  Avon't  enjo}'^  life  ;  they  Avon't  laugh  Avithout 
atoning  for  the  sin  by  a  groan  ;  they  Avon't  indulge  in 
much  hope  or  joy  ;  they  more  easily  and  readily  enter- 
tain   doctrines    Avliich    go   to  prove   how   many    may   be 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN,  hq 

damned  than  how  many  may  be  saved  ;  because  all  this 
seems  to  suit  their  views  of  G^d's  character,  and  to  be 
more  agreeable  to  Him  than  a  cheerful,  loving  bearing. 

"A  Calvinistic  enthusiast  and  an  Arminian  fanatic  are 
seldom  met  with." 

"...  No  creature  knows  the  unity  of  truth,  or  rather 
the  whole  of  any  truth.  Each  truth  is  but  a  part  of  a 
system.  That  system  radiates  from  God,  the  centre  :  the 
radii  are  innumerable.  A  poor  being  called  man  lights 
for  a  moment,  like  a  fly,  upon  one  of  the  spokes  of  this 
awful  wheel,  which  is  so  high  that  '  it  is  dreadful,  and  full 
of  eyes;'  and,  as  it  moves,  he  thinks  that  he  understands 
its  mighty  movements  and  the  revolution  of  the  whole 
system ! 

"  A  truth  which  explains  another,  but  which  cannot  be 
explained,  is  to  us  a  mystery.  As  we  advance  along  the 
chain  of  truth,  beginning  at  the  lowest  link,  m3^stery 
ascends  before  us — God  Himself,  Who  is  Truth,  and  to 
Whom  we  approach  for  ever,  but  never  reach  I" 


"Dr.  Payne  of  Exeter's  book,  'On  the  Sovereignty  of 
God,'  is  one  of  the  best  I  ever  read.  It  has  been  a  ring- 
fence  to  a  thousand  scattered  ideas  I  have  had  on  the 
subjects  of  which  it  treats.  On  election  and  atonement  I 
think  he  is  invincible.  That  Christ  died  for  all,  or  none, 
seems  as  clear  to  me  as  day,  not  merely  from  the  distinct 
declaration  of  Scripture,  but  from  the  idea  of  an  atone- 
ment. If  the  stripe  for  stripe  theory  is  given  up,  which 
it  must  be,  a  universal  atonement  is  the  consequence. 
The  sufficiency  of  Christ's  death  and  its  universality  are  one 
and  the  same.  Election  has  only  to  do  with  its  applica- 
tion." 


"  The  freedom  of  a  man  quoad  civilia,  as  well  as  quoad 
spiritualia,  will  ever  be  in  proportion  to  the  sense  enter- 
tained by  himself  and  others  of  his  dignity  and  worth. 
Hence  the  connection  between  C-hristianity  and  civil 
liberty,  and  hence  the  follv  of  Chartists  and  Revolutionists, 


150  LIFE  OF  NO f! MAX  .ir.lCr.FOD. 

and  all  who  lovo  or  ]»rct(Mi<l  to  love  th(3  freedom  of  ninn, 
opposing'  tilt;  JJible,  wliicli  alone  makes  known  man's 
dignity;  denouncing  ministers  who  every  Sabbath  [)rochiiui 
it,  and  urge  men  to  know  and  believe  it  ;  destroying  the 
Lord's  Day,  a  day  when  this  dignity  is  visibly  seen  by 
men  meeting  on  the  same  spiritual  platft)rm — the  same 
level  ;  and  refusing  Church  extension,  which  is  Ijut  a 
means  for  bringing  those  blessings  to  the  masses,  and  thus 
of  helpmg  them  to  obtain,  use,  and  preserve  freedom," 


"  Much  struck  with  a  remark  in  Coleridge's  '  Friend,' 
'  that  the  deepest  and  strongest  feelings  of  our  nature 
combine  with  the  obscure  and  shadowy  rather  than  With 
the  clear  and  palpable.'  Hence  I  say  :  1st,  The  fierceness 
of  fanatics  ;  2nd,  Fierceness  of  the  ignorant  in  politics 
and  of  the  mob.  This  accounts  for  a  fact  I  have  always 
noticed — viz.,  that  in  proportion  to  one's  ignorance  of  a 
question  is  his  wrath  and  uncharitableness,  if  his  feelings 
are  but  once  ensfajred." 


"0"0" 


*'  Truth  may  be  recognised  in  the  spirit  when  it  is  indis- 
tinctly seen  by  the  intellect.  No  lalse  proof  should  be 
removed  which  tends  to  good,  until  a  true  one  is  ready  to 
replace  it. 

"  Shelley  and  Wordsworth  have  more  power  than  any 
men  I  know  of  making  visible  invisil)le  things.  See,  for 
instance,  Shelley's  jDoem,  '  To  a  cloud,'  Wordsworth's 
ode  on  '  Intimations  of  Immortality.'  Keats  fre(piently 
displays  in  a  marvellous  manner  the  same  gift  ('  Magic  case- 
ments opening  on  the  foam,'  '  Ode  to  the  Nightingale  '), 
and  so  does  Sir  Thomas  Browne,  in  his  '  Ileligio  Medici  * 
and  '  Urn  Burial.'  If  we  were  to  remain  long  here, 
growing  in  feeling  like  the  nngels,  we  would  require  an 
algebra — new  symbols — for  new  thoughts." 


"  There  are  some  men  who,  if  left  alone,  are  as  cold  as 
pokers  ;  but  like  pokers,  if  they  are  once  thrust  into  the 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  151 

firo,  tliey  become  red  hot,  and  add  to  the  general  bluze. 
Such  are  some  ministers  I  know,  wlien  they  get  into 
Church  controversies. " 


."I  am  not  surprised  at  David's  praying  to  God  in  the 
night-watches  ;  in  his  rising  from  his  bed  and  ascending 
to  the  roof  of  his  house,  and  when  the  '  mighty  heart '  of 
the  city  '  was  lying  still,'  and  '  the  mountains  which 
surrounded  Jerusalem'  were  sleeping  in  the  calm  brilliancy 
ttf  an  Eastern  night,  that  he  should  gaze  with  rapture  on 
the  sky,  and  pour  forth  such  a  beautiful  Psalm  of  Praise 
as  '  When  I  consider  the  heavens,  the  work  of  thy  lingers.' 

"  The  night  is  more  suited  to  prayer  than  the  day.  I 
never  awake  in  the  middle  of  the  night  without  feeling 
induced  to  commune  with  God.  One  feels  brought  more 
into  contact  with  Him.  The  whole  world  around  us,  we 
think,  is  asleep.  God  the  Shepherd  of  Israel  slumbers 
not,  nor  sleeps.  He  is  awake,  and  so  are  we  !  We  feel, 
in  the  solemn  and  silent  night,  as  if  alone  with  God. 
And  then  there  is  everything  in  the  circumstances 
around  you  to  lead  you  to  pray.  The  past  is  often 
vividly  recalled.  The  voices  of  the  dead  are  heard,  and 
their  forms  crowd  around  you.  No  sleep  can  bind  them. 
The  night  seems  the  time  in  which  they  should  hold 
spiritual  commune  with  man.  The  future  too  throws  its 
dark  shadow  over  you — the  night  of  the  grave,  the  cer- 
tain death-bed,  the  night  in  which  no  man  can  work. 
And  then  everything  makes  such  an  impression  on  the 
mind  at  night,  when  the  brain  is  nervous  and  susceptible  ; 
the  low  sough  of  the  wind  among  the  trees,  the  roaring, 
or  eerie  whish  of  some  neighbouring  stream,  the  bark  or 
low  howl  of  a  dog,  the  general  impressive  silence,  all  tend 
to  sober,  to  solemnize  the  mind,  and  to  force  it  from  the 
world  and  its  vanities,  which  then  seem  asleep,  to  God, 
who  alone  can  uphold  and  defend." 


"  A  holy  mind  is  like  Herschell's  large  telescope,  it  sees 
by  its  great  power  heavenly  truth  much  more  distinctly 


IS»  T.IFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

than  an  unrenewed  mind  can,  and  also  many  others  which 
are  altogetlier  unseen  and  unknown  to  others.  But  Ly 
the  same  enLirged  powers  which  enable  it  to  see  the 
glories  of  the  heavens,  is  it  able  also,  nay,  cannot  choose 
but  see  the  dust  and  filth  in  the  atmosphere  of  earth  ;  let 
the  instrument,  however,  he  removed  to  a  higher  and  purer 
region,  and  then  it  will  '  see  clearly,  and  not  as  through  a 
glass  darkly.' 

"  Is  the  gift  of  saving  fiiith  the  gift  of  a  telescope — a 
power  to  see  truths  which  are  unseen  by  the  common  eye  ? 
or  is  it  the  removing  of  mists  and  clouds  that  conceal 
truths,  which  but  for  those  mists  may  be  seen  by  every 
eye? 

" Novemh&r,  1841. — Read  Arago's  'Treatise  on  Astro- 
nomy,'    It  is  very  simple. 

"  I  sometimes  like  to  fancy  things  about  the  stars.  May 
there  not  be  moral  systems  as  well  as  physical  ?  Moral 
wholes  or  plans  ;  a  portion  of  the  plan  being  carried  on  in 
one  Avorld,  and  another  in  another  world,  so  that,  like 
different  pieces  of  a  machine,  or  like  the  different  stars 
themselves,  the  whole  must  be  put  together  and  examined 
before  the  plan  can  be  understood  ?  The  world  may  be 
a  moral  centre  ;  the  centre  being  the  cross  ;  from  which 
moral  radii  extend  throughout  the  moral  universe.  Phy- 
sical space  and  moral  space  have  no  connection.  It  used 
to  be  an  old  question  how  many  angels  could  dance  on 
the  point  of  a  needle  ;  but  it  had  a  glimmer  of  wisdom 
too,  for  it  arose  from  a  feeling  that  spiritual  things  bear 
no  relation  to  space.  May  there  not  be  moral  constella- 
tions?" 


MUSIC. 

"  l7'ish  Music.  —  My  father  once  saw  some  emigrants 
from  Lochaber  dancing  on  the  deck  of  the  emigrant  ship, 
and  weeping  their  eyes  out !  This  feeling  is  the  mother 
of  Irish  music. 

"It  expresses  the  struggle  of  a  buoyant,  merry  heart, 
to  get  quit  of  thoughts  that  often  lie  too  deep  for  tears. 
It  is  the  music  of  an  oppressed,  conquered — but  deeply 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  153 

feeling,  impressible,  fanciful,  and  generous  people.  It  is 
for  the  harp  in  Tara's  Halls. 

"  Scotch  Music. — A  bonny  lassie  with  her  plaid,  reclining 
in  some  pastoral  glen  among  the  braos  of  Yarrow,  and 
waking  the  sleep  that  is  among  the  lonely  hills  with  some 
tale  of  love,  domestic  sorrow,  or  of  '  the  flowers  of  the 
forest,  a'  wede  awa'.' 

"Highland  Music. — The  pibroch  ;  the  music  of  the  past 
and  gone,  of  lonely  lakes,  castled  promontories,  untrodden 
valleys  and  extinguished  feuds,  wild  superstitions,  and  of  a 
feudal  glory  and  an  age  of  romance  and  song  which  have 
fled  on  their  dun  wings  from  Morven.  It  is  fit  only  for 
the  large  bagpij)e  in  the  hall  of  an  old  castle,  Avith  thuds 
of  wind  and  the  dash  of  billows  as  its  only  accompani- 
ment. 

"  It  is  deep  sorrow  that  is  checked  by  lofty  pride  from 
breaking. 

•* '  Let  foemen  rage  and  discord  burst  in  slaughter. 

Ah  then  for  clansmen  true  and  stern  claymore  ! 
The  hearts  that  would  have  shed  their  blood  like  water, 
Now  heavily  beat  beyond  the  Atlantic's  roar.' 

"  German  Music.  —  The  music  of  the  intellect  and 
thought :  passion  modified  by  high  imagination.  It  is  essen- 
tially Gothic,  vast  and  grand.  It  is  for  man.  The  shadow 
of  the  Brocken  is  over  it ;  the  solemn  sound  of  the  Rhino 
and  Danube  pervade  it.      It  is  an  intellectual  gale. 

"  French  Music. — A  dashing  cavalry  officer  on  his  way 
to  fight  or  make  love. 

"  Italian  Music. — A  lovely  woman,  a  Corinne,  breathing 
forth  her  soul  under  the  influence  of  one  deep  and  strong 
passion,  beneath  a  summer  midnight  sky  amidst  the  ruins 
of  ancient  Roman  grandeur.      It  is  immensely  sensuous. 

"  Spanish  Music. — A  hot  night,  disturbed  by  a  guitar. 

"American. — 'Yankee-doodle.' " 


"December,  1841. — I  am  much  mistaken  in  the  signs 
of  the  times,  if  an  episcopal  era  is  not  near  for  Scotland's 
ecclesiastical  history.     To   form  an  Episcopalian  Church, 


15+  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

quoad  spiritualia,  wc  have,  1st,  The  old  and  respcctalile 
and  unchanged  EpiscopaHan  families  of  Scotland.  2nd,  Tha 
lovers  of  fashion  more  than  the  lovers  of  God — the  families 
■who  spend  a  portion  of  their  time  in  London,  and  who  like 
a  '  gentlemanly  religion.'  3rd,  The  rich  merchants,  who 
wish  to  wear  the  new  polish,  and  to  look  like  old  State 
furniture  ;  who,  by  buying  country-houses,  by  marrying 
into  good  families,  by  getting  hold  of  a  property  with  an 
old  title,  and  by  joining  an  old  form  of  worship,  labour  to 
persuade  the  world  that  they  never  sold  timber  or  sugar 
since  they  supplied  the  Ark  with  these  commodities.  4th, 
The  meek  and  pious  souls  who  love  to  eat  their  bread  in 
peace,  and  who,  weary  of  the  turmoil  in  our  Church,  flee 
to  the  peace  of  the  Church  of  England,  which  seems  to 
reflect  the  unchangeableness  of  the  Church  invisible.  5th, 
The  red-hot  Tories,  who  fly  from  disgust  at  the  Radi- 
calism of  our  Church. 

"  The  only  checks  I  see  to  this  tide  which  I  fear  will  set 
in  for  Episcopacy,  are  :  1st,  Puseyism,  which  treats  us 
as  heathen,  and  will  tend  to  disgust.  2nd,  That  the 
Church  of  Scotland  is  the  Establishment.  3rd,  That 
unless  Episcopacy  is  endowed  it  cannot  advance  far.  4th, 
That  if  it  attempts  to  get  an  endowment,  we  must  check- 
mate it  b}'  trying  the  same  for  our  churches  in  England, 
and  we  would  do  more  harm  to  Episcopacy  in  England, 
than  they  can  to  Presbyterianism  in  Scotland." 


"  The  infidel  and  the  superstitious  equally  disregard  the 
authority  of  evidence.  The  one  disbelieves  in  spite  of 
evidence  for  the  thing  rejected  ;  the  other  believes,  in 
spite  of  the  want  of  evidence,  for  the  thing  received. 
Hence  Popery  and  Infidelity  are  so  closely  allied.  Sub- 
mission to  the  authority  of  evidence  is  the  only  safeguard 
against  either. 

"  Sahhuth  viorning. — I  put  some  bread  for  the  birds  on 
tlio  window,  and  thought  if  God  made  me  so  kind  to 
birds,  He  must  be  kind  to  His  own  creatures — to  His 
own  children.  By-and-by  two  chaffinches  came  and 
fought  for  the  bread,  and  one  was  beatei"'.  otf ;  and  yet  there 


EARLF  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  155 

was  abundance  for  both.  Alas  !  how  many  who  are  richly 
provided  for  by  God  thus  fight  about  the  bread  of  life, 
rather  than  partake  of  it  together  in  peace  and  thankful- 
ness. The  robin  is  eating,  but  with  what  terror !  picking 
Eind  starting  as  if  an  enemy  were  near.  Thus  do  Christians 
])artake  as  if  the  Lord  grudged  what  He  gives — as  if  He 
would  not  rejoice  that  they  took  abundance." 


"  The  best  consistency  is  to  be  consistent  to  one's  self, 
by  acting  every  day  up  to  the  light  of  that  day.  To  be 
governed  not  by  any  fixed  point  ah  extra,  but  by  the 
conscience  ah  intra,  which  will  vary  its  judgments  with 
every  change  of  our  position.  The  traveller  who  guides 
his  steps  in  relation  to  one  object,  such  as  a  mountain, 
who  wishes  to  keep  always  at  the  same  distance  from  that, 
may,  indeed,  keep  moving  and  apparently  advancing,  but 
he  is  travelling  in  a  circle  round  the  one  object ;  but  he 
A\ho  is  guided  by  the  path  will  always  be  changing  his 
relative  position,  and  every  step  makes  him  inconsistent 
\\ith  the  scenery  ;  but  he  moves  on  and  on,  and  advances 
into  new  countries,  and  reaches  his  journey's  end. 

■'  Know  thyself,  and  be  true  to  thyself!  Thou  art  in 
)  lie  way  of  truth. 

'■  The  only  consistent  mariner  is  he  who  steers  by  the 
compass,  though  he  is  drifted  leagues  out  of  his  course." 


"  If  Christ  did  not  die  for  all  men,  how  can  it  be  said 
tliat  God  willeth  all  men  to  be  saved  ?  Can  He  will  any 
to  be  saved  for  whom  there  is  no  atonement  ? 

"  If  Christ  did  not  die  for  all  men,  in  M^hat  sense  is  He 
said  to  be  the  Saviour  of  all  men,  though  specially  of 
those  M'ho  believe  ? 

"  If  Christ  did  not  die  for  all  men,  how  can  all  men  be 
commanded  to  believe  ?  What  are  the}^  to  believe  ?  Is 
this  not  inviting  to  a  supper  insufficient  to  feed  all 
the    guests  ij  they  came  ?      If   it  is    said   '  God    knows 


IS6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

they  won't  come.'  I  reply,  this  is  charging  God  with 
conduct  man  would  be  ashamed  of.  If  He  died,  and 
they  may,  yet  won't  believe,  this  is  moral  guilt,  not 
natural  inability.  It  is  the  guilt  of  the  di'unkard  who 
cannot  give  up  drinking  ;  not  the  gniilt  of  the  man 
without  legs  who  cannot  walk,  which  is  no  guilt  at  all." 


"Sin,  like  an  angle,  does  not  become  greater  or  smaller 
by  being  produced  ad  infinitum." 


"  It  is  a  pleasing  thought  that  there  cannot  be  different 
kinds  of  minds,  as  there  are  different  kinds  of  bodies. 
Bodies  have  no  type  of  perfection,  to  which  they  are  in  a 
greaii  r  or  less  degree  conformed  ;  no  normal  form  after 
Avhich  they  are  modelled,  their  degrees  of  perfection 
depending  on  the  nearness  to  which  they  come  to  this 
model.  The  zoophyte,  or  the  hydra  polype,  is  as  perfect 
an  animal  as  the  elephant,  as  its  parts  are  perfectly  con- 
structed in  relation  to  the  end  it  is  destined  to  fulfil  in 
the  creation.  But  it  is  not  thus  with  mind.  It  has  a 
ty[)e — an  image  ;  and  that  is  God.  And  to  this  image  it 
must,  whenever  found  in  a  right  state  (one  according  to 
God's  will  and  intention),  be  in  conformity.  To  no  in- 
tellect in  the  Universe  can  the  relation  of  numbers  be  differ- 
ent from  what  it  is  to  ours.  It  is  impossible  that  God  would 
ever  create  intellects  to  which  two  and  two  would  be  any- 
thing else  than  four.  So  in  regard  to  moral  things,  right 
and  wrong  are  still  the  same  in  the  planet  Herschel,  or  in 
lieaven,  as  on  earth.  Wherever  beings  exist  that  can  know 
God,  they  must  be  like  God.  We  thus  recognise  in 
the  angels  the  same  minds  and  sympathies  with  ourselves. 
When  they  sing  praises  as  they  announce  man's  redemp- 
tion, we  perceive  the  same  minds,  with  the  same  senti- 
ments and  reflections  as  our  own ;  and  thus,  too,  mind 
becomes  a  conductor  which  binds  us  to  the  whole  universe 
of  rational  beings.  Every  mental  and  moral  being  is  born 
after  one  imagfe — God." 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  157 

LeliQr  to  T)K.  DoNALPSOT^,  when  requested  to  take  the  chair  at  a  Buvna 
rofetiyal,  at  Newmilus  : — * 

Dec.  1839. 

"Onlv  consider  the  matter  seriously  as  a  Christian 
man,  and  say  how  Ave  can,  with  the  shadow  of  consistency, 
commemorate   Burns    after    sitting    down    at    the    Lord's 
Supper  to  commemorate  the  Saviour  ?      I  have  every  ad- 
miration for  Burns  as  a  poet  ;  but  is  it  possible  to  separate 
the    remembrance   of  his    genius  from   the   purposes  for 
which  it  was  so  frequently  used,  or  rather  prostituted  ?      I 
would,  I  daresay,  have  admired  and  wondered  at  the  mag- 
nificent picture  which  Satan  exhibited  to  the  Saviour,  had 
I  beheld  it ;  but  that  would  not  be  a  reason  why  it  would 
have  been  allowable  to  have  commemorated   the  genius 
and  power  of  the  mighty  being  who  had  delighted  my 
senses  Avith  his  picture,  without  any  reference  to  the  good, 
or  evil,  intended  to  be  done,  or  actually  accomplished,  by 
the  splendid  work  itself.      In  the  same  way,  however  much 
I  admire  the  beautiful  poetry  of  Burns,  1  never  can  for- 
get that,  in  a  great  many  instances  (and  these  affording 
me  most  brilliant  examples  of  his  powers)   it  has  been  an 
eno-ine  for  vice  ;  for  over  what  vice  does  he  not  throw  the 
colouring  of  genius  ? 

"  I  would  willingly  say  nothing  against  him,  unless  I 
am  thus  publicly  called  upon  to  commemorate  him  pub- 
licly and  to  say  something  for  him.  I  cannot,  I  dare  not, 
as  a  Christian  minister,  do  this  ;  neither  can  I  but  in  the 
strongest  manner  disapprove  of  any  dinner  to  his  memory. 
AVhat'  I  have  said  would,  I  Avell  know,  in  the  estimation  of 
the  world,  be  termed  cant ;  but  with  the  vast  majority  of 
thoughtful,  well-informed  Christians,  it  is  a  self-evident 
truth.  Excuse  this  very  hurried  note,  written  amidst 
many  labours.  You  may  make  what  use  you  please 
of  it." 

*  It  is  interesting  to  compare  his  convictions  at  this  period  as  to 
the  proper  course  of  duty  with  the  position  he  assumed  at  the  Burns' 
Centenary  in  1859.     (See  Chapter  XIV.) 


rsS 


LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 


From  his  JoT'KXAi, : — 

"  ^l  uijiixt  \t]i.  — Went  with  Clerk  to  })reach  at  Kilmorry, 
a  station  ou  tlie  wt^st  side  of  Ardnamurchan.  Had  a  tine 
view  of  the  West  Hel)rides  from  the  summit  of  the  hill. 
The  place  where  he  preaches  is  very  curious. 

"  ]>i',fore  I  went  into  church  I  sat  down  on  a  knoll  to 
i^aze  on  the  SLienery.  I  heard  the  sound  of  })raise  rising 
from  till!  pi-imitivt!  editice,  and  the  lash  of  the  waves  of  the 
gre.it  Atlantic  on  the,  shore,  and  between  the  hymn  and 
the  ocean  and  the  majestic  scenery  around  there  Was  per- 
fect oneness.      They  all  praised  God.     But  the  dead  cannot 


VIEW    NEAR    KILMORRY. 


praise  Him  ;  and  what  a  lonely  churchyard  that  one  was! 
One  stumbled  upon  it.  I  never  saw  such  rude  graves.  I 
could  not  discover  one  name  or  one  inscription.  Among 
heather  and  weeds,  you  find  a  small  spot  raised  above 
the  surface,  and  a  turf  of  h'ltlier  over  it,  ill-cut  and 
rudely  put  on.  Tiiere  is  a  fearful  negligence  shown  here 
of  the  remains  of  humanity.  The  churchyards  are  not 
inclosed,  and  the  graves  are  more  nule  than  anv  I  have 
seen  in  any  country.  There  is  one  grave  in  that  remote 
churchyard  in  wliich  a  woman  lies  Avhose  history  will 
only  be  known  at  the  great  day.  She  was  called  Lowland 
Mary.  About  forty  years  ago  she  came,  no  one  knew 
M-hence,  to  this  remote  sj^ot.     Sli»  was  then  a  young  and 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  15^ 

prrtty  woman.  She  been  me  a.  serv^ant  to  a  respectable 
gentleman  tenant,  and  sup{)orted  herself  for  thirty  years. 
She  was  pleasant  and  communicative  on  every  point  but 
one,  and  that  was  her  own  jaersonal  history.  Wlienever 
she  was  asked  who  or  whence  she  was,  she  got  into  a  hiijh 
state  of  excitement,  almost  mad.  The  most  she  ever  said 
was  that  her  friends  could  support  her,  and  insinuated 
that  they  were  well  otf.  It  was  supposed  she  was  landed 
from  some  ship.  She  lived  for  years  a  solitary  woman, 
and  died  a  pauper  this  year.  Clerk  was  sent  for  to  see 
her  and  could  not  go.      Her  history  was  never  told. 

"  I  received  the  following  information  about  Skye  from 
a  thoroughly  reliable  source  : — 

"  To  disregard  the  ordinances  and  sacraments  of  the 
Church  has  come  to  be  looked  upon  by  the  islanders  as 
characteristic  of  religious  life.  The  superstitious  terror 
Avith  which  fanaticism  has  invested  the  receiving  of  Bap- 
tism or  the  Lord's  Supper  has  led  men  to  show  their 
reverence  by  the  strange  method  of  avoiding  their  observ- 
ance. The  teaching  of  my  cousin,  Mr.  Roderick  Macleod, 
minister  of  Bracadale — commonly  called  Mr.  Rory — was 
the  prime  cause  of  this  state  of  things.  He  held  extremely 
strict  and  exclusive  views  as  to  who  should  be  allowed  to 
partake  of  the  sacraments  of  his  Church.  He  believed, 
and  acted  with  unbending  rigour,  on  the  principle  that  a 
minister  should  admit  no  one  to  these  Christian  privileges 
without  being  fully  satisfied  in  his  own  mind  that  the 
applicant  Avas  truly  regenerate,  Avhile  doing  so  he  refused 
to  make  known  the  tests  by  which  he  judged  of  men's 
spiritual  state.  The  immense  majority  of  the  people,  not 
only  in  Bracadale,  but  throughout  the  island,  gradually 
succumbed  to  his  rule  ;  and  while  continuing  nominally 
attached  to  the  Church  of  Scotland,  yet  rarely  asked  for 
her  sealing  ordinances,  and  either  grew  indifferent  to  them, 
or  regarded  them,  especially  the  Lord's  Supper,  with  such 
dread,  that  no  consideration  would  induce  them  to  partake 
of  them. 

"  Thus,  in  the  parish  of  Bracadale,  with  a  population 
of  1,800,  the  communicants  have  been  reduced  to  eight 
persons.     In    the   neighbouring  parish    of  Diminish   the 


ibo  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

communion  was  never  administered  from  the  year  1829 
till  184-0  ;  while  in  other  parishes  the  administration  was 
irrcg-ular,  and  the  number  of  communicants  incredibly 
small.  "^^  There  are  hundreds  of  people  unbaptized,  and 
who,  even  in  mature  age,  evince  no  desire  to  receive  the 
sacred  rite. 

"  There  is  a  numerous  class  of  lay  preachers,  called  '  The 
Men,'  who  do  much  to  keep  up  the  flame  of  fanaticism  by 
fierce  denunciations  of  those  whom  they  reckon  unworthy 
communicants,  and  of  the  pastors  who  dare  to  admit  any 
to  Christian  privileges  but  such  as  have  received  their 
iwpriinatur.  These  "Men"  are  of  various  characters  and 
talents.  Some  of  them  are  animated  by  a  zeal  that  is 
genuine  if  not  enlightened,  leading  lives  of  strict  piety, 
and  gifted  with  a  wonderful  flow  of  natural  eloquence  ; 
while  others  have  nothing  to  show  but  a  high-sounding 
profession  of  faith,  sometimes  combined  with  great  worth- 
lessness  of  character.  These  separatists  wear  a  distinctive 
dress,  carrying  a  long  blue  cloak,  and  putting  a  red  hand- 
kerchief round  their  heads  in  church.  They  judge 
spiritual  character  more  by  such  tokens  as  Sabbatarian 
strictness  than  common  morality. 

"  Our  way  home  was  by  a  different  but  as  wild  a  path, 
which  only    Highland   horses  like    Liamond  and  Brenda 

*  The  anomalous  state  of  tilings  described  as  existing  in  Skj'e  in 
1842,  continues  to  the  present  daj'.  There  are  now  hundreds  of 
persons  in  the  ishind — manj'  of  them  fathers  and  mothers,  some  of 
thi-m  grand  fathers  and  grandmothers  —  who  were  never  baptized, 
while  the  sacrament  of  the  Lord's  Supper  is  looked  upon  by- 
many  with  indescribable  dread.  This  gloomy  view  of  the  Iloly 
(_ommunion  prevails  generally  throughout  the  north  Highlands; 
but,  as  far  as  I  know,  Skyo  is  the  only  place  where  baptism  is 
so  generally  neglected.  As  an  instance  of  the  baneful  elfects  of 
these  feelings,  even  after  the  erroneous  views  on  which  thej*  are 
founded  have  been  given  up,  a  clergyman  relates  that  when  he 
once  asked  a  parishioner  who  had  come  from  the  north  Hii:hlands  to 
become  a  communicant,  he  was  startled  by  the  reply,  "  Please  say  no 
more.  I  cannot  answer  you.  I  have  no  doubt  that  what  you  saj'  is 
true  ;  but  I  tell  you  that  if  j'ou  had  asked  me  to  commit  the  greatest 
sin,  you  could  not  have  frightened  me  half  so  much  as  by  inviting  me 
to  sit  at  the  table  of  the  Lord."  Yet  this  man  was  not  only  intelli- 
gent and  well-read,  but  of  a  truly  serious  mind  and  excellent  cha- 
racter. 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN  \b\ 

could  travel.  T  could  not  have  believed  it  without  my 
having  seen  the  inimitable  way  in  which  they  picked 
their  steps  among  the  loose  stones,  and  walked  over 
ledges  of  wet  rock.  We  had  one  magnificent  prospect  on 
our  way  back  from  the  summit  of  the  ridge.  It  was  like 
the  crater  of  an  immense  volcano — wild,  silent,  savage. 

"  lih,  Sahhath  of  the  Communion. — The  day  was  wet  and 
stormy,  but  it  was  a  pleasant  day  to  us  all.  The  English 
congregation,  amounting  to  about  twenty,  met  in  the 
drawing-room  of  the  Manse.  There  I  preached  to  them 
and  administered  the  sacrament.  It  was  a  small  but 
solemn  meeting,  and  had  a  reality  about  it  which  I  liked. 
It  seemed  more  like  primitive  times  than  anything  of  the 
kind  I  ever  saw.  And  query — had  no  ordained  minister 
been  in  the  parish,  and  had  the  parish  been  removed 
beyond  St.  Kilda,  and  had  my  worthy  and  intelligent 
friend,  Mr.  Clerk,  senr.,  set  apart  the  bread  and  wine  by 
prayer  for  sacramental  use,  and  had  that  company  partaken 
of  the  same  in  order  to  remember  Christ,  would  this  have 
been  a  '  mock  sacrament,'  even  though  no  ordained 
minister  were  present  ? 

"  Wth. — ^Set  off  upon  an  expedition  to  Loch  Shiel. 

"  A  fresh  breeze  of  north  wind  was  blowing  up  Loch 
Sunard.  We  went  rattling  along  under  a  snoring  breeze  ; 
passed  Mingarry  Castle  and  Sthrone  McLean,  connected 
with  which  tliere  is  a  sad  story.  McLean  was  a  famous 
freebooter  when  Mclan  was  in  possession  of  Mingarry 
Castle.  Mclan's  wife  was  fair  and  vain.  McLean  was 
handsome  and  cunning.  He,  the  enemy  of  her  husband, 
won  her  affections.  She  asfreed  to  admit  him  to  the  castle 
upon  a  certain  night  to  murder  her  husband,  on  condition 
that  he  would  marry  her.  McLean  accordingly  entered 
the  castle  at  night  and  murdered  the  old  chief.  Mclan, 
however,  left  an  only  son,  and  McLean  insisted  upon  the 
woman  putting  to  death  the  son,  who  alone  seemed  to 
stand  in  the  way  of  his  subjecting  the  district  to  his  own 
sway.  The  woman  agreed  to  this,  and,  accompanied  by 
McLean,  reached  the  wild  precipice  to  throw  her  child  over 
into  the  ocean  which  foamed  below.  The  mother  took 
the  child  in  her  arms.      She  twice  swung  it  in  the  air  to 

VOL.  I.  M 


1 62 


LII'E  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


cast  it  from  her  ;  but  nut  doing  so,  slio  was  asked  l»y 
McLean  wliy  she  delayed. 

"'The  child,'  replied  tlie  unfortunate  woman,  'smiles 
in  my  face  whenever  I  attempt  it.' 

"  '  Turn  tlien  your  face  away  and  look  not  at  its  smiles,' 
was  the  bandit's  re})ly. 

"  The  woman  did  so,  and  the  child  was  thrown  over  the 
rock.  She  had  no  sooner  accomplished  the  deed  than 
McLean  turned  upon  her  and  said — 

"  '  Away,  horrid  woman  1  You  who  could  thus  murder 
your  husband  and  child  mii^lit  nuirder  me  !' 

"  We  soon  came  in  sight  of  Aharacle,  which  struck  me 
very    much    as    being    wild,    peculiar,    and    picturesque. 


VIEW    FKOM    AHAKACLE. 


Aharacle  is  at  the  end  of  Loch  Shiek  It  is  a  flat,  dark 
moss  surrounded  by  hills,  with  a  fine  view  of  Rum  in  the 
backgi'ound. 

"  It  affords  a  curious  instance  of  the  singukr  crys- 
tallizing process  which  the  results  of  the  Reformation 
have  undergone,  that  Papists  and  Protestants  occupy 
nearly  the  same  territory  as  they  did  then.  All 
the  Papists  are  on  the  north  side,  and  the  Protestants 
upon  the  south  side  of  Loch  Shiel.  The  parish  of  Ard- 
namurchan,  Avhich  in  Papist  times  contained  many  parishes, 
extended  (until  lately)  as  far  north'  as  Arisaig,  about  sixty 
miles  as  the  crow  flies,  with  I  daresay  five  Imndred  miles 
of  sea-coast. 

"  We  set  oflf  for  Glen  Finnan  at  four.     We  pulled  for  two 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN. 


163 


or  three  miles  between  low  flat  banks  with  low  ranges  of  hills 
near  ;  but  there  was  a  grand  view  ahead,  clusters  of  moun- 
tains, with  dark  gullies,  towards  which  we  were  steering  in 
high  hope.  After  sailing  some  miles  the  lake  seemed  closed 
bv  a  green  point — intensely  green  Avhen  contrasted  with 
the  dark,  heathy,  rocky  mountains  which  now  began  to 
gather  round  us  and  above  us  on  every  side.  We 
soon  discovered  from  the  ruins  and  crosses  which  caught 
our  eye  that  this  was  Eilean  Finnan,  of  which  w'e  had  heard 
so  much.  It  is,  indeed,  a  touching  spot,  lit  place  for 
meditative  thouo'ht.  Tliere  are  remains  still  on  the  island 
of  the  old  religious  establishments,  but  they  are  ruins  only. 
Gravestones  are  scattered  around,  chiefly,  if  not  altogether, 


LOCH    SHIEL. 


belonging  to  the  Roman  Catholic  families  in  the  district. 
One  Avas  the  grave  of  a  bishop.  Another  had  a  skeleton 
carved  out  on  the  stone.  Another  was  a  plain  bit  of  wood 
not  a  foot  high.  Rude  stone  crosses  of  slate  and  of 
modern  workmanship  Avere  placed  here  and  there.  Until 
a  few  months  ago,  when  it  was  removed  for  safety  by 
the  popish  proprietor,  a  small  bell  remained  from  time  im- 
memorial in  a  window  in  the  ruins  beside  three  skulls,  one 
of  them  belonsfinsr  to  a  notorious  character  in  the  olden 
time,  Ian  Muideartach.  These  skulls  have  been  buried. 
One  thing  struck  me  m\ich  about  the  churchyard,  viz., 
that  the  rude  spokes  which  had  carried  the  difl^erent  coffins 
for  burial  were  deposited  beside  their  respective  graves, 
each  grave  having  a  rude  spoke  on  each  side  of  it.    In  con- 

M  2 


i64  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

tenipliuing  that  green  island  with  its  ruins,  I  could  not  re- 
strain tliose  feelings  which  prompted  me  to  offer  up  in  my 
heart  a  tribute  of  praise  to  the  forgotten  religionists  wlio  had 
hen;  lived  and  died.  They  may  have  been  in  comparative 
darkness,  they  may  have  erred  from  the  truth — but  some 
light  they  had,  and  here  they  made  it  shine  amidst  the 
surrounding  darkness  of  a  barbarous  age.  Some  truth  they 
had,  and  they  gave  it  to  others.  This  island,  with  its  build- 
ings, its  matin  and  vesper  bells,  its  processions,  its  prayers, 
its  ceremonies,  was  a  visible  religion  ;  it  was  a  monument 
and  pledge  of  something  beyond  man,  a  link  connecting 
another  world  with  this;  and  it  must  at  least  have  kept  before 
the  minds  of  the  barbarian  clans  who  prowled  in  the  neigh- 
bouring mountains — gazing  upon  it  from  their  summits,  or 
listening  to  its  bell  calling  to  early  prayer — the  truth  that 
there  was  a  God,  and  reward  and  punishment  beyond  the 
grave,  and  that  the  eye  of  One  who  hated  sin  gazed  upon 
them.  P()})ery  with  its  s3'mbolswas  a2:)ioneer  to  Protestantism. 
It  was  in  some  respects  better  calculated  to  attract  the 
attention  of  men  in  a  rude  and  savage  state.  When  man 
is  a  child,  he  speaks  as  a  child;  but  he  should  now,  in  these 
days  of  light  and  intelligence,  put  away  childish  things. 

"After  a  pull  of  twenty-four  miles  we  reached,  about  ten 
o'clock,  the  head  of  the  loch,  and  saw  the  tall  monument 
rising  like  a  ghost  in  the  darkness. 

"The  first  tliino-  which  attracted  mv  notice  in  the  morning 
was  the  monument  erected  to  commemorate  Prince  Charlie 
unfurling  his  standard  to  regain  the  throne  of  his  ancestors. 
This  romantic  enterprise  was  begun  on  this  spot. 

"And  where  now  are  all  those  fine  fellows  who,  full  of 
enthusiasm  and  of  hope,  came  streaming  down  these  valleys 
and  covered  those  scattered  rocks  ?  Where  those  Highland 
chiefs,  the  last  monuments  in  Europe  of  the  feudal  times, 
who  met  here  full  of  chivalry,  and  of  all  the  stirring  thoughts 
connected  with  such  a  romantic  and  hazardous  enterprise  ? 
And  the  young  Chevalier  himself,  with  his  dreams  of 
ambition  and  of  kingly  throne*  never  to  be  fulfilled  ? 
How  strange  that  the  intrigues  of  a  vicious  Court  should 
have  disturbed  the  quiet  of  this  solitary  glen,  and  that 
he.  who  was  then  all  freshness  and  manliness,  should  have 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN  165 

changed  Loch  Shiel  and  its  warriors  for  an  opera  and 
Italian  dissipation  !  Charlie  after  all  was  never  my  dar- 
ling. He  had  all  the  kingly  bearing,  with  all  the  low 
cunning  and  tyrannical  spirit,  of  the  Stuarts. 

"  We  left  the  head  of  Loch  Shicl  with  a  stiff  breeze  in 
our  teeth.  Having  seen  the  picturesque  outline  of  the 
mountains — which  were  hanging  over  us  so  that  the  eagle 
perched  upon  their  summits  might  almost  look  into  our 
boat — both  in  the  evening  when  their  forms  mingled  with 
the  dark  shadow  of  the  lake,  and  their  summits  glowed 
with  crimson  and  gold,  and  also  at  night  when  their  giant 
forms  stood  in  close  column,  their  stature  reaching  the  sky 
on  every  side  of  us,  we  were  glad  to  see  them  now  half 
robed  in  mist,  and  bedewed  with  many  a  snowy  rill.  After 
a  stiff  pull  we  reached  Aharacle  about  two,  and  soon  found 
ourselves  again  on  the  banks  of  Loch  Sunard." 

To  John  Mackintosh  : — 

Loudoun  Manse,  Odoher  8tJi,  1842. 

"  You  are  in  a  glorious  country.  There  is,  I  think,  a 
finer  combination  and  loveliness  in  the  scenery  of  the 
Lakes  than  in  our  West  Highlands,  Avith  the  exception  of 
our  majestic  sea  views  ;  our  castled  promontories,  scattered 
islands,  rapid  tides,  glimpses  of  boundless  horizons,  and 
far-winding  sea  coasts  are,  I  think,  unrivalled  for  sublimity. 
But  there  is  a  snugness,  and  what  Carlyle  calls  a  '  Peace 
reposing  in  the  bosom  of  strength,'  in  the  lake  scenery, 
which,  with  the  exception  of  some  parts  of  the  Tyrol,  one 
sees  nowhere  else. 

"  Have  you  seen  Wordsworth?  He  is  a  perfect  Pan  of 
the  woods,  but  a  glorious  creature.  Such  men  elevate  my 
views  of  the  Supreme  Mind  more  than  all  the  scenery  of 
earth." 

"  What  though  we  are  but  Aveary  pilgrims  here, 
Trav'lers  whose  place  of  rest  is  not  below  ; 
Who  mustx  along  the  path  of  sorrow  go  ; 
For  those  we  cherish  and  regard  aa  dear 
With  weak  hearts  trembling  l)etwixt  hope  and  fear  : 
Yet,  mournino-  brother,  wherefore  should  we  know 


1 66  LIFE   OF  XOIUr.AX  MACLF.OD. 

Tliat  rayloss  "^rief  wliicli  })roo(leth  o'tT  (l»'s|tair? 

Fur  still  a  lot  most  lull  of  bliss  is  ours  ! — 
Sweet  coimmine  with  the  good  which  arc  aiul  were, 

Virtue  and  love,  high  truth,  exalted  powers, 
Converse  with  God  in  deep,  confiding  pray'r, 

An  ever-present  Lord  to  seek  and  save, 
The  word  which  quickens  more  than  vernal  showei"s, 

A  Father's  house  beyond  the  hollow  grave  I" 


To  John  Mackixtosh,  at  Cambridge. 

Loudoun,  December,  1842. 

"  I  feel  with  you  that  our  '  inner  men '  did  not  com- 
mune sufficiently  when  you  were  here.  There  was  more 
a  rubbing  of  surfaces  than  a  melting  together  of  two 
souls.  It  was  only  after  you  went  away  that  I  began  to 
grieve  over  undone  work,  and  unsaid  things,  and  half  said 
things.  But  when  I  have  time  I  will  send  you  broken 
images  of  my  thoughts,  that  you  can  patch  together — half 
crystallized  opinions  that  will  enable  you  to  guess  the 
form  which  they  are  tending  towards.  There  are  many 
points  in  theology  upon  which  I  somehow  think  you  are 
destined,  like  myself,  to  undergo  a  change,  and  about 
these  I  am  very  anxious  to  communicate  with  you  ; 
such  as  the  universality  of  the  atonement,  the  nature  of 
saving  fjxith,  the  doctrine  of  assurance,  and  the  sacraments. 
I  have  been  reading,  writing,  meditating,  preaching,  and 
])raving  upon  these  subjects,  and  I  feel  the  necessity  of 
having  such  clear  definite  ideas  upon  them  ixs  will  stand 
examination. 

"  I  am  busier  than  ever.  I  have  been  preaching 
round  the  parish  upon  Thursday  evenings.  At  all  those 
meetings  I  collect  for  religious  purposes.  Last  Tliursday 
I  collected  3Ls.  G(Z.  in  a  small  schoolroom!  I  have  also 
— don't  laugh — commenced  a  course  of  lectures  on  geology 
for  the  Newmilns  weavers  !  It  will  extend  to  about  ten 
lectures. 

"  I  have  never  engaged  in  any  duty,  for  I  call  it  duty, 
which  has  given  me  such  pleasure.      You  know  that  thero 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  167 

has  always  been  a  set  of  shrewd,  well-read,  philoso])liical 
weavers  here — vain,  but  marvellously  well  infornied,  niid 
half  infidel — who  were  very  civil  when  I  went  to  sec 
them,  but  would  never  come  to  cliurch.  They  wrre 
generally  Chartists,  and  talked  very  big  about  the  '  'pyu^-U  ' 
not  wishing  the  people  to  become  well  informed,  and  so  on. 
Well,  I  hardly  knew  how  to  get  to  windward  of  these  men, 
but  I  knew  they  had  formed  themselves  into  a  '  Pliilo- 
sophical  Institution '  and  sometimes  got  men  to  lecture 
to  them  from  Kilmarnock.  I  hinted  to  one  of  them 
that  I  would  willingly  lecture.  They  sent  a  deputa- 
tion to  request  me  to  do  so.  I  agreed.  Subject,  geology. 
I  have  for  the  last  ten  years  been  fond  of  the  science,  and 
luckil}^  I  had  just  finished  a  two  months'  course  of  reading 
on  it,  and  had  a  large  collection  of  all  the  best  books. 
Well,  not  to  make  mj^  story  long,  up  I  went  to  the  village 
on  the  appointed  night,  expecting  to  find  the  members  of 
the  Institution  only  assembled,  but  I  found  the  school- 
house  crammed  Avith  one  hundred  and  fifty  people  ad- 
mitted by  penny  tickets,  and  about  fifty  people  outside  ! 
You  can  have  no  idea,  unless  you  knew  the  excitability  of 
our  people,  of  the  interest  these  lectures  have  created  :  they 
speak  of  nothing  else  ;  old  fellows  stop  and  touch  their 
hats  and  thank  me.  When  I  finished  my  second,  men  who 
used  to  avoid  me,  gave  me  three  rounds  of  cheers ! 
and  last  Sabbath  night  I  saw  some  of  the  [philosophers  in 
church  for  the  first  time.  They  have  got  the  dissenting 
church  for  me  to  lecture  in.  I  have  got  Buckland's  map 
copied  on  a  large  scale,  and  we  begin  a  spring  course, 
to  not  less,  I  am  persuaded,  than  six  or  seven  hundred 
people  !  I  think  this  is  a  practical  lesson.  Let  a  minister 
use  every  means  to  come  in  contact  with  every  class,  to 
win  them  first  on  common  ground,  and  from  thence 
endeavour  to  bring  them  to  holy  ground.  Only  fancy  a 
fossil  fern  from  the  coal,  the  solitary  specimen  in  the 
mineral ogical  cabinet  of  the  institution,  going  the  round 
of  Newmilns  as  an  unheard-of  curiosity !  Poor  souls ! 
if  you  knew  how  I  do  love  the  working  classes. 

"  Dec.  oOth. — The  former  part  of  this  letter  was  written 
a  week  ago.     It  proves  to  you  what  a  slow  coach  I  am.     I 


1 68  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

wanted  to  have  written  to  yoii  ahout  our  unfortunate 
Church,  hut  the  suhject  is  too  important  to  V)e  (h-aU  with 
in  a  letter.  I  have  seen  nothing  pubHshed  upon  this 
subject  which  so  completely  expresses  my  own  views  as 
Morren  of  Greenock's  letters  to  his  congregation.  If  I  can 
get  them  in  a  complete  form  1  will  send  them  to  you.  My 
principles  may  be  shortly  stated.  The  Church,  as  an  inde- 
pendent power  in  spiritual  things,  agrees  in  forming  an 
alliance  with  the  State  to  act  in  reference  (for  example)  to 
the  induction  of  presentees  into  parishes  in  one  particular 
way,  out  of  fifty  other  ways  she  might  have  chosen,  all  being 
agreeable  to  the  Word  of  God.  This  particular  way  is  em- 
bodied in  an  Act  of  Parliament — a  civil  act — and  conse- 
quently implies  an  obligation  on  the  part  of  the  two  con- 
tracting parties,  the  Church  and  State,  to  obey  its  enact- 
ments. Of  this  civil  act  the  civil  courts  are  alone  the 
constitutional  interpreters,  and  we  must  either  obey  their 
interpretation  or  walk  out.  I  wish  the  law  was  modified, 
but  I  can  live  under  it.  I  believe  there  must  be  a  large 
secession.      No  Government  can  yield  to  their  demands. 

"  Write  to  me  soon.  This  is  a  wild  night.  It  is  late. 
My  communion  is  on  the  second  Sabbath  of  January. 
Pray  for  me." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  I  heard,  the  end  of  last  week,  that  T B and 

D T were  ill  and  dying.      Neither  of  them  sent 

for  me,  but  I  determined,  thank  God,  to  see  them.  I 
felt  a  particularly  strong  desire  to  do  so.  Here  let  me 
record  for  my  guidance  a  rule — Always  when  a  fitting 
opportunity  arrives  be  sowing  the  seed.  Read  the  Gospel 
in  i)rivate,  in  season  and  out  of  season,  and  God  may  bless 
it  when  least  expected  by  you.  1  went  to  see  B.  first,  and 
found  him  dying.  Most  earnestly  did  I  urge  upon  him 
a  free  salvation,  and  the  truth  that  God  has  good-Avill 
to  man.  I  then  went  to  T.'s.  He  had  been  a  cold, 
heartless  man,  a  Chartist,  and  his  son  was  the  only  man 
in  Newmilns  (except  his  brother)  who  "cut"  me,  and  who 
was    very  uncivil  to  me    both   in    his    father's    presence 


EARLY  MINISTRY  IN  LOUDOUN.  169 

and  in  his  own  house.  Indeed,  I  had  to  leave  him  on 
the  ground  of  incivility.  To  this  man's  house  I  felt  I 
must  go.  But  I  went  in  prayer,  leaving  it  to  God,  and 
conscious  that  I  w^ent  from  a  sense  of  duty.  But  oh  how 
chastened  was  D.  !  lamenting  neglected  opportunities,  and 
serious  and  thoughtful  about  salvation.  His  son  entered 
at  the  end  of  my  visit.  D.  shook  hands  with  me,  and  his 
son,  mild  and  civil,  thanked  me  cordially  for  my  visit. 
Always  do  duty  trusting  to  God,  who  will  make  light  arise 
out  of  darkness. 

"  Saturday  Evening,  2dth. — I  was  last  week  at  Kilninvei 
burying  dear  old  Dr.  Campbell,*  who  died  upon  the  17th. 
My  father  is  the  best  travelling  companion  I  know,  so  full 
of  anecdote  and  traditionary  tales." 

*  Father  of  tLe  late  Jokn  Macleod  Campbell,  D.D.  1 


CHAPTEE  VIII. 

THE    DISRLTTION    CONTROVERSY. 

rpiIE  Disruption  of  1843  forms  an  interesting  and 
J-      curious  page    in  modern  ecclesiastical   history. 
The  enthusiasm  and  stern  devotion  to  duty  which  led 
hundreds  of  good  men  to  leave  the  Church  of  their 
fathers,  and  peril  their  all  for  conscience  sake,  formed 
a  startling  spectacle  in  the  midst  of  the  materialism 
of  the  nineteenth  century.     It  was  no  wonder  that  the 
appeal  made  to  the  generous  sympathies  of  the  nation 
— when  the  people  saw  so  many  of  their  most  revered 
ministers    sacrificing   manse   and  glebe   and    stipend 
for  what  they  believed  to  be  their  duty — received  a 
generous  response.     And  if  the  commencement  of  the 
Free  Church  was  a  remarkable  illustration  of  the  un- 
dying '  perfervidum  ingenium  Scotorum' — no  less  has 
her   subsequent  history  been   characterized   by   rare 
wisdom  and  energy.     Every  Christian  man  must  un- 
grudgingly recognise  the  great  good  which  she  has 
accomplished.     The  benefits  which  have  attended  her 
devoted  labours  are  too  palpable  to  require  emnnera- 
tion.  Iler  rapid  multiplication  of  the  means  of  grace  at 
home  and  abroad,  the  wisdom  of  her  organization,  the 
boldness  of  her  enterprise,  the  splendid  liberality  of 
her  members,  and  the  wortli  and  ability  of  many  of  her 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  171 

ministers,  have  conferred  untold  blessings,  direct  and 
indirect,  on  the  cause  of  religion.  She  has  not  only  been 
a  distinguished  missionary  agent,  but  she  has  power- 
fully stimulated  the  zeal  of  other  Churches. 

Yet  it  would  be  untruthful  not  to  recognise  the 
evils  which,  we  believe,  accompanied  the  Disrup- 
tion. Ecclesiastical  strife,  which  introduced  dis- 
cord into  every  parish  and  into  thousands  of  families, 
not  only  greatly  destroyed  the  frank  cordiality  of 
social  life  in  Scotland,  but  converted  every  com- 
munity into  a  set  of  mutually  suspicious  factions,  and 
thus  did  grievous  damage  to  the  C/hristian  spirit  of 
the  country.  For  the  zeal  with  which  the  claims  of 
Church  and  party  were  advanced  was  too  often 
characterized  by  a  bitterness  of  temjDer,  a  violence 
of  language,  and  a  virulence  of  sectarian  animosity, 
which  promoted  anything  but  Christian  life  as  exem- 
plified by  humility,  justice,  and  charity.  When  there 
was  such  denunciation  of  ecclesiastical  opponents  that 
their  loyalty  to  the  will  of  Christ  was  questioned ; 
and  when  there  was  added  to  such  presumption  of 
judgment,  the  frequent  refusal,  in  word  and  practice, 
to  recognise  the  Establishment  as  a  true  branch  of 
Christ's  Church,  an  acerbity  was  imparted  to  the 
controversy  which  was  far  from  being  edifying  to 
the  public.  This  rivalry  of  the  sects  also  tended 
to  weaken  the  authority  and  impair  the  discipline 
of  all  Churches,  and  diminish  the  feelings  of  rever- 
ence with  which  the  sacred  office  of  the  ministry 
used  to  be  regarded.  Those,  moreover,  who  value  a 
national  testimony  to  religion  not  as  a  mere  theory, 
but  as  exemplified  in  practical  legislation,  must  regret 


172  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

tlio  povilous  issnos  -wliicli  have  onsuod  from  tlie  jealousy 
and  division  of  tlic  Clnirclics  in  Scotland.  Although 
there  is,  perhaps,  no  free  country  really  so  united  in 
its  creed,  yet  there  are  few  where  it  has  been  more 
difficult  to  settle  even  such  matters  as  education  with- 
out risking  every  guarantee  for  religion. 

It  is  certainly  from  no  desire  to  re-open  contro- 
versies, which,  thank  God,  have  in  a  great  measure 
lost  their  bitterness,  that  these  things  are  referred  to 
here.  Most  of  those  who  took  a  leading  part  in  the 
warfare  have  entered  into  their  rest,  and  '  seeing  eye 
to  eye '  have  learned  to  love  one  another  in  the 
fellowship  of  the  Church  glorified.  It  is  therefore 
peculiarly  painful  to  recall  a  time  of  misunder- 
standing and  bitterness.  But  in  describing  the  part 
taken  by  Norman  ]\Iaclcod  during  years  of  keen  and 
important  debate,  historical  truthfulness,  as  well  as 
the  duty  imposed  on  his  biographer  of  throwing  as 
much  light  as  possible  on  the  motives  which  then 
actuated  him,  and  which  led  to  the  strong  expressions 
of  opinion  sometimes  to  be  found  in  his  journals  and 
letters,  make  it  necessary  to  re-create,  to  a  certain 
extent,  the  atmosphere  which  then  smTOunded  him. 
If  there  are  hard  words  sometimes  uttered  by  hiin, 
it  can  be  asserted,  with  all  truth,  that  they  owe  their 
character  chiefly  to  his  intense  desire  for  tolerance 
and  love  between  Chi-istian  men  and  Christian 
Churches,  and  from  detestation  of  that  party-spirit 
which  is  ever  so  destructive  of  right  Christian  feeling. 

For  the  sake  of  clearness,  therefore,  as  well  as  of 
illustrating  the  position  taken  by  Norman  ^lacleod 
during   this  discussion,  we  shall  state,  as  briefly  and 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  173 

impartially  as  possible,  the  points  at  issue  in  a  con- 
troversy which  agitated  Scotland  to  its  centre,  drove 
into  hostile  camps  those  who  had  been  previously 
united  by  the  most  sacred  ties,  and  is  still  affecting 
the  public  and  private  life  of  the  kingdom. 

The  tide  of  fresh  intellectual  life  which  passed  over 
Europe  in  the  early  part  of  the  nineteenth  century, 
causing   in  France  the  Eevolution  of    1830,  and   in 
Britain    the    Eeform  Bill    of    1832,   manifested   its 
effects   in  almost   every  sphere  in   which   the   voice 
of    the    populace    could    be    heard.      It    told    with 
power  upon   all   religions  and  all  Churches,  and  us 
might  have  been  expected,  had  a  marked  influence  on 
the  Church  of  Scotland,  whose  government  from  the 
first  had  been  democratic.     With  the  quickening  of 
political  and  intellectual  life,  th'-ve  was  also  a  revival, 
in  the  best  sense,  of  spiritual  religion.     The  earlier 
movements  of  this  new  life  were  towards  objects  of 
missionary  enterprise,  in  which  both   parties  in  the 
Church  vied  with  each  other.    The  India  Mission,  the 
Education  and  Colonial  Schemes,  inaugurated  by  the 
leaders  of  tlie  '  Moderates,'  were  heartily  supported 
by  the   '  Evangelicals,'   who,  at   the  same  time,  led 
by  Dr.  Chalmers,  were  urging   on  Church  extension 
with  splendid  tokens  of  success.     The  spirit  of  party 
was  at  this  time   chiefly   manifested  in  the  defence 
of   Church   Establishments  against   the  Voluntaries, 
and  the  war,  carried  on  mainly  by  the  future  Non- 
Intrusionists,  was  characterized  by  great  argumentative 
ability,  and  by  no  little  intolerance  of  spirit  towards 
dissent.     This  campaign  against  the  Voluntaries  Avas 
closely   connected   with   the   events   which   followed 


17+  LIFE  OF  NOKxMAN  MACLEOD. 

witliin  the  Cliurch  and  wliic]'  led  toils  dismemberment. 
For  the  desire  to  popularise  the  Establishment  as  much 
as  possible,  and  to  show  that  her  constitution  ensured 
the  same  freedom  and  independence  of  government 
which  belonged  to  dissenting  communities,  gradu- 
ally led  to  a  series  of  legislative  enactments,  on  the 
part  of  the  General  Assembly,  which  raised  the  fatal 
questiones  vexatce  that  produced  the  secession. 

Divested  of  the  entanglements  into  which  they  fell, 
and  vicAVcd  apart  from  the  strict  chronological  order 
of  events,  the  questions  which  ultimately  divided  the 
Church  may  be  thus  stated  : — 

I.  They  had  reference  to  the  constitutional  power 
of  the  Church. 

II.  To  practical  legislation. 

I.  The  two  parties  into  which  the  Church  was 
divided  had  divergent  beliefs  as  to  the  nature  of  the 
spiritual  independence  Avhich  of  right  belonged  to  the 
Church. 

The  Non-Intrusion  party  maintained  that  in  all 
questions,  the  subject-matter  of  which  involved  what 
was  spiritual,  the  jurisdiction  of  the  Church  courts 
was  exclusive,  and  that  their  sentences  were  un- 
challengeable, even  when  it  was  asserted  by  a  party 
complaining,  that  the  laAVS  and  constitution  of  the 
Church  itself  were  being  violated.  The  Church  had 
also,  according  to  them,  the  right  to  declare  what  was 
spiritual,  and  was  in  such  cases  quite  free,  not  only 
to  decide  on  the  merits,  but  to  change  the  forms  of 
law  regulating  her  procedure.  They  denied,  more- 
over, that  the  Civil  Courts  had  power  to  i)ronounco 
any  decision  vdiicli  could  touch  th(^  spiritual  sentence, 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  175 

even  in  cases  where  a  civil  right  was  so  involvrd 
that  it  coukl  not  easily  he  separated  from  the 
spiritual.  The  Ecclesiastical  Courts  were  to  stand 
to  the  Civil  very  much  as  the  Court  of  Arches  stands 
to  Chancery. 

They  claimed,  in  short,  for  the  Church  constitu- 
tional powers  co-ordinate  not  with  the  Civil  Courts 
onl}^,  but  with  the  State — a  right  not  only  to  make 
new  laws,  but  to  be  the  interpreter  of  her  own  laws 
in  every  case  where  the  question  involved  that  which 
was  spiritual,  although  civi]  rights  were  afi'ected  by  it. 

In  all  such  things  she  was  to  be  responsible  to  Jesus 
Christ  alone  as  the  Head  of  the  Cliurch. 

The  position  of  the  other  party  was  equally  clear. 
They  believed  as  firmly  as  their  brethren  in  the  duty  of 
accepting  no  law  which  inferred  disloyalty  to  the  re- 
vealed will  of  the  Great  Head.  They  also  claimed  for 
the  Church  undisputed  liberty  in  the  exercise  of  her 
judicial  functions.  But  they  further  asserted  that  when 
the  Church,  after  due  deliberation,  had  settled  her  own 
constitution,  and  had  come  to  terms  with  the  State  as 
to  the  conditions  on  which  she  should  accept  establish- 
ment, and  had  satisfied  herself  that  there  was  notliins: 
in  the  statutes  so  establishing  her  which  inferred 
disloyalty  to  conscience  and  the  Word  of  God,  she 
had  then  become  bound  by  contract,  and  had  no  right 
■proprio  motu  to  legislate  in  such  a  manner  as  to  nullify 
her  own  constitution  and  the  statutes  to  which  she 
had  agreed.  These  laws  had  become  her  laws,  and 
held  her  in  a  certain  fixed  relationship,  not  only  with 
the  State,  but  with  her  own  members  and  every 
indi\idual  who  had  a  locus   slandl  before  her  courts. 


176  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

■whether  minister,  communicant,  patron,  or  heritor. 
All  these,  the  constitutional  party  maintained,  had  a 
right  to  see  that  they  had  the  privileges  of  law,  that 
they  were  tried  by  properly  constituted  coiu'ts,  and 
with  the  observance  of  such  forms  of  process  as 
statute  law  and  the  practice  of  the  Church  herself 
prescribed.  They  also  maintained  that  any  one  who 
deemed  himself  aggrieved  by  an  infringement  of  law, 
was  entitled  to  the  protection  of  the  Civil  Courts. 
When  disputes  arose  not  respecting  what  the  lav) 
ought  to  he^  but  as  to  what  tvas  the  existing  law 
by  which  the  Church  Coiu'ts  and  the  members  of  the 
Church  were  equally  bound,  they  held  that  this, 
being  a  purely  legal  question,  fell  of  necessity  to 
be  determined  by  a  court  of  law.  It  was  but  the 
law  of  contract  applied  to  matters  ecclesiastical,  and 
the  tribunal  which  could  alone  definitely  settle  what 
the  terms  of  contract  were  must,  in  their  view,  be  the 
courts  of  the  country  charged  with  the  authoritative 
interpretation  of  law.  While  they  yielded  nothing  to 
their  opponents  in  claiming  spiritual  independence  for 
the  Church,  they  were  of  opinion  that  that  independ- 
ence, and  the  allegiance  due  to  the  great  Head,  were 
best  secured  by  maintaining  intact  the  constitution 
which  the  Church  had  adopted  and  which  the  State 
had,  at  the  suit  of  the  Church,  confirmed.  They 
held  that  no  change  could  be  made  without  the 
consent  of  all  parties  interested,  and  that  to  concede 
to  any  majority,  which  happened  to  obtain  ascendancy 
in  the  General  Assembly,  power  to  alter  the  consti- 
tution of  the  Church,  either  as  to  doctrine  or  disci- 
pline, was  not  legitimate  independence,  but  licence 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  177 

which,  if  carried  to  its  logical  consequences,  miglit 
ultimately  destroy  the  Church. 

Such  were  the  different  ideas  of  jurisdiction  and 
of  spiritual  independence  which  were  held  by  the  two 
parties.  They  soon  found  an  ample  field  for  dis- 
cussion in  the  questions  which  arose  during  the  '  Ten 
Years'  Conflict.' 

II.  The  Assembly  of  1834  was  the  first  in  which 
the  'High  party'  gained  a  majority  over  the  'Mode- 
rates,' and  their  victory  was  signalised  by  the  passing 
of  two  Acts,  which  laid  the  train  for  all  the  disastrous 
consequences  that  ensued. 

(a)  The  first  was  the  Veto  Act. 
Although  lay  patronage  had  always  been  distasteful 
to  a  section  of  the  clergy,  and  unpopular  with  the  vast 
majority  of  the  people,  yet,  with  the  exception  of  a 
comparatively  short  period,  it  had  been  in  some  form 
or  other  enforced  by  statute,  and  recognised  in  the 
practice  of  the  Church  ever  since  her  establishment. 
The  Act  of  Queen  Anne,  at  all  events,  had  been  in 
force  for  more  than  one  hundred  and  twenty  years. 
The  forms  to  be  observed  in  the  settlement  of  ministers 
were  also  of  express  enactment.  It  was  the  duty  of 
Presbyteries  to  take  all  presentees  on  trial,  and,  if 
found  qualified,  to  induct  them,  unless  such  objections 
were  tendered  by  the  parishioners  as  should  approve 
themselves  valid  to  the  court.  The  liberty  of  judgment 
was  to  lie  with  the  Church  courts  alone,  without  right 
of  appeal. 

But  in  1834  the  party  which  had  become  dominant 
in  the  General  Assembly,  professing  to  give  greater 
effect  to  the  will  of  the  people,  and  to  prevent  the 

VOL.  I.  N 


178  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

rccuiTciicc  of  such  scandals  in  tlic  working-  of  tlio  law 
of  patronage  as  had  occurred  during  the  cold  period 
of  the  eighteenth  century,  passed  an  Act  which 
practically  got  quit  of  patronage  by  a  side-wind. 
This  was  the  Veto  Act,  by  which  power  was  given 
to  a  majority  of  the  male  communicants,  being  heads 
of  families,  to  veto  the  settlement  of  a  j^articu- 
lar  minister  without  assigning  any  reason.  Pres- 
byteries being  at  the  same  time  enjoined  to  accept 
this  Veto  as  an  absolute  bar  to  all  further  proceed- 
ings. In  this  manner  they  hoped  to  secure  non- 
intrusion, and  nullify  the  evil  effects  of  patronage. 
The  power  of  judgment  was  thus  transferred  from 
the  Church  Courts  to  the  male  communicants,  being 
heads  of  families ;  and  the  quality  of  the  judg- 
ment was  altered  from  one  supported  by  reasons, 
to  that  of  a  Veto  pronounced  without  any  grounds 
being  assigned.  The  majority  in  the  Assembly 
which  passed  this  law  certainly  believed  they  had 
constitutional  power  so  to  legislate.  But  not  only 
did  a  large  and  influential  minority — no  less  than 
one  hundred  and  thirty-nine  against  a  majority  of 
one  hundred  and  eighty-four — protest  against  it  as 
ultra  vircs^  but  Chalmers  himself  had  doubts  of  its 
legality,  while  he  supported  its  adoption.  After  the 
passing  of  the  Act,  the  constitutional  party  offered  no 
factious  opposition  ;  they  allowed  it  a  fair  trial,  and 
in  several  instances  it  Avas  acted  upon  without  ques- 
tion. But  at  last,  in  the  Auohterarder  case,  its  com- 
petency was  challenged  by  a  patron  and  presentee,  and 
the  question  was  brought  to  an  issue  by  a  dcn-laratory 
action  in  the  Civil  Court.     The  patron  asserted  that 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY,  179 

his  civil  riglit,  secured  by  statute,  had  been  infringed, 
and  the  presentee  that  his  privilege  as  a  licentiate 
of  the  Church  to  be  taken  on  trial  by  the  Presby- 
tery had  been  denied.  On  the  question  of  law  thus 
submitted  to  them,  the  civil  courts^ — first  the  Court 
of  Session  and  then  the  House  of  Lords  —  decided 
that  the  Veto  Act  was  ultra  vires.  The  ecclesi- 
astical majority  then  professed  themselves  willing  to 
give  up  the  temporalities,  but  refused  to  take  th& 
presentee  on  trial,  or  to  proceed  in  any  way  with  his 
settlement.  In  all  this,  however,  the  State  never 
interfered,  and  the  Courts  of  Law  pronounced  their 
decision  only  because  it  was  asked  regarding  the 
proper  interpretation  of  a  statute.  No  one  sought 
to  fetter  the  judgment  of  the  Ecclesiastical  Coiu'ts  as 
to  the  fitness  or  unfitness  of  the  presentee  for  the 
benefice,  or  as  to  the  validity  of  the  objections  which 
the  people  might  bring  against  him.  All  that  was 
insisted  on  was  that  the  Presbyter}^ — and  the  Pres- 
bytery alone — was  bound  to  try  the  suitability  of 
the  presentee  and  that  it  was  illegal  to  accept  the 
simple  Veto  of  '  heads  of  families  being  communi- 
cants '  as  a  sufficient  bar  to  induction.*  The  domi- 
nant party  in  the  Assembly,  however,  would  not 
listen  to  this  reasoning.     They  claimed  spiritual  inde- 

*  Even  tlie  Act,  1690,  c.  23,  which  is  appealed  to  in  the  Free 
Church  CLiim  of  Eights  as  if  it  were  the  very  charter  of  the  liberties  of 
the  Church,  while  it  vests  patronage  in  the  heritors  and  elders — giving 
them,  the  right  to  j^roposo  a  minister  to  a  congregation  for  their 
approval — expressly  requires  disapprovers  "to  give  in  their  reasons 
to  the  effect  the  affair  may  be  cognosced  upon  by  the  Presbytery  of  the 
Bounds,  at  whose  judgment  and  h\  whose  determination  the  calling 
and  entry  of  the  particular  minister  is  to  be  ordered  and  concluded." 
The  Veto  Act,  however,  conferred  on  the  people  the  right  to  reject  a 
presentee  without  any  trial  and  without  assigning  any  reasons. 

N  2 


i8o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

pcndcnce,   and  absolutely   refused   oliediencc   to   tho 
Civil  Court. 

The  next  stop  irretrievably  involved  both  parties. 
This  was  taken  in  the  well-known  Marnoeh  case.  The 
Presb}  tery  of  Strathbogie,  acting  on  the  injunctions 
of  the  General  Assembly,  but  contrary  to  the  judg- 
ment of  a  majority  of  their  own  number,  and  not- 
withstanding the  decision  of  the  House  of  Lords  in 
the  Auchterarder  case,  refused  to  take  a  presentee  on 
trial.  Upon  this  the  presentee  complained  to  the 
Civil  Court.  Before  this  tribunal  the  majority  of 
the  Presbytery  appeared  and  stated  they  were  satis- 
fied til  at  by  the  laws  of  the  Church  they  were 
bound  to  take  the  presentee  on  trial,  but  that  they 
were  restrained  by  an  order  of  the  superior  Eccle- 
siastical Court.  The  Court  of  Session,  however,  told 
them  that  such  an  ordor  was  ultra  vires,  and  ordered 
them  to  proceed.  Their  own  convictions  as  to  their 
duty  being  thus  confirmed  by  a  judicial  sentence,  they 
— unfortunately  without  waiting  to  throw  the  respon- 
sibility on  the  Assembly — took  the  presentee  on  trial, 
and  having  found  him  duly  qualified,  inducted  hiin. 
For  this  act  of  disobedience  to  their  injunctions 
the  General  Assembly  deposed  the  majority  of  the 
Presbytery.  The  constitutional  party,  on  the  other 
hand,  who  were  in  a  minority  in  the  Assembly, 
accepting  the  decision  of  the  Civil  Court  as  a  con- 
firmation of  what  they  had  themselves  all  along 
maintained  to  be  the  law  of  the  Church,  felt 
themselves  bound  to  treat  the  ministers,  who  had 
been  deposed  for  obeying  that  law,  as  if  no  eccle- 
siastical censure  had  been  passed.     They  appealed, 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  iSi 

ill  short,  from  the  decision  of  the  dominant  majority 
to  the  obligations  which  the  statutes  establishing  the 
Church  imposed.  Matters  thus  came  to  a  dead-lock, 
and  both  sides  found  themselves  in  a  position  from 
Avhich  it  Avas  almost  impossible  to  retreat. 

{]))    Another    proceeding    of    the    same    General 
Assembly  of  1834  led  even  more  decidedly  to  a  similar 
conflict— for  by  the  law  then  passed  affecting  Chapels 
of  Ease,  a  formal  right  had  been  given  to  Ministers 
of  quoad  sacra  or  non-parochial  churches,  to   sit  in 
Presbyteries,  Synods,  and  Assemblies.    The  theory  of 
Presbyterian  parity,  and  some  precedents  which  had 
not'  at  the  time  been  challenged,  lent  countenance  to 
the  Act.     But  its  legahty  Avas  disputed  by  the  pa- 
rishioners of  SteAvarton,  in  1839,  and,  after  trial,  the 
Court  of  Session  found  it  unconstitutional  and  incom- 
petent.     As  Presbyteries  are   Courts  which  possess 
jurisdiction  not  only  in  matters  spiritual,  but  in  civil 
matters, — such  as  the  building  and  repair  of  Manses, 
Churches,  and  the  examination  of  schoolmasters — it 
was  evident  that  any  parishioner  or  heritor  or  school- 
master, as  Avell  as  minister,  Avas  entitled  to  object  to 
any  one  sitting  as  a  member  of  the  Court  who  had  no 
leo-al  riffht  to  do  so.     The  Non-Intrusion  party,  hoAV- 
ever,  once  more  claimed  supremacy  for  the  General 
Assembly.     The  Church,  and  the  Church  only,  they 
said,  had  the  right  to  determine  A\dio  should  sit  in  her 
Courts ;  but  the  Court  of  Session  held  that  it  Avas 
a  violation  of  the  law  of  the  land  as  well  as  of  the 
constitution  of  the  Church  itself,  to  alloAV  any  minister 
to  act  as  judge   in  a  Presbytery  Avho  was  not  the 
minister  of  a  parish,  and  issued  interdict  -accordingly. 


.82  LIFE  OF  XUJaFLV  MACLEOD. 

Confusion  thus  became  worse  confounded.  AVitli 
tlie  view  of  reconciling  parties,  measures  were  \^YK^- 
posed  in  Parliament  for  the  settlement  of  minis- 
ters, in  which  the  utmost  latitude  was  given  to 
the  liberty  of  the  people  to  object.  One  point  alone 
was  stipulated, — the  Church  Courts  must  decide 
whether  the  objections  to  the  presentee  were  good 
or  bad,  and  their  decision  was  to  be  final.  Eut 
even  this  was  not  satisfactory.  Nothing  short  of 
such  a  llhcrum  arhltrium  must  be  given  to  the  people 
as  has  been  commemorated  in  the  song — 

"  I  do  not  like  theo,  Dr.  Fell, 
Tlio  reason  why  I  cannot  tell." 

The  extreme  party  had  taken  their  position,  and  it 
was  not  easy  to  recede  from  it.  The  '  Ten  Years' 
Conflict'  waxed  louder  and  fiercer  as  it  approached  its 
lamentable  close.  A  Convocation  of  the  Free  Church 
party  was  held  to  mature  measures  for  the  final 
separation.  Deputations  were  appointed  to  visit 
every  parish  whose  minister  was  of  the  opposite  party, 
and  to  stir  up  the  people  so  as  to  prei)are  them  for 
secession.  The  language  used  by  these  deputies  was 
not  unfrequently  of  the  wildest  and  most  reprehensible 
description.  The  choice  they  put  before  the  country 
was  '  Christ  or  Ca)sar.'  Motives  of  the  most  mer- 
cenary d(\scription  were  too  often  attributed  to  the 
ministers  who  dared  to  abide  by  the  Establishment. 
There  was  kindled,  especially  in  the  North  lligh- 
lands,  a  fanaticism  the  intensity  of  which  would  now 
appear  incredible.  It  Avas,  in  short,  a  period  of  untold 
excitement. 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  183 

Konnau  Macleod  ^Yas  for  a  long  time  unwilling  to  be 
dragged  into  the  controversy,  and  pursued  liis  parocliial 
duties  with  increasing  earnestness,  witliont  entering 
into  the  strife  which  was  raging  around  him.  He  was 
unfitted  alike  by  temperament  and  by  conviction  for 
being  a  '  party  man,'  and  until  nearly  the  end  of  the 
conflict  his  sympathies  were  not  greatly  roused  by 
the  action  of  either  side.  He  felt  that  the  High 
Churchmen  or  '  Evangelicals  '  were,  on  the  one  hand, 
exaggerating  the  importance  of  their  case,  for  he  had 
seen  noble  types  of  Christianity  in  England  and 
Germany  under  forms  and  conditions  Avidely  different 
from  what  were  pronounced  in  Scotland  essential  to 
the  existence  of  the  Church.  His  common  sense 
condemned  the  recklessness  with  which  the  very 
existence  of  the  National  Church  was  imperilled 
for  the  sake  of  an  extreme  and,  at  the  best,  a 
dubious  question  of  ecclesiastical  polity.  In  whatever 
way  the  dispute  might  be  settled,  his  practical  mind 
saw  that  nothing  was  involved  which  could  hinder 
him  from  preaching  the  Gospel  freely,  or  interfere 
either  with  his  loyalty  to  the  Word  of  God,  or  w^th 
the  utmost  libert}^  in  promoting  the  advancement  of 
Christ's  kingdom.  His  Avhole  nature  was  opposed  to 
what  savoured  of  ultramontane  pretensions,  however 
disguised,  and  knowing  how  easily  '  presbyter '  might 
become  'j^riest  writ  large,'  he  was  too  much  afraid 
of  the  tyranny  of  Church  Courts  and  ecclesiastical 
majorities,  not  to  value  the  checks  imposed  by  con- 
stitutional law.  He  was,  moreover,  repelled  by  the 
violence  of  temper,  the  unfairness  of  judgment,  and 
the  spiritual   pride,    displayed   by   so   many  of  the 


r8+  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

'Evangelicals.'  He  had  known  and  loved  too 
many  excellent  Christian  men  among  the  so-called 
*  ^Moderates,'  not  to  be  shocked  by  the  indiscriminate 
abuse  which  was  heaped  on  them. 

On  the  other  hand,  he  had  such  reverent  love  for 
Chalmers,  the  leader  of  the  'Evangelicals,'  and  fur 
many  of  the  eminent  men  associated  with  him,  that 
he  was  for  a  time  led  to  sympathize  with  their  side, 
-without  adopting  the  policy  they  advocated.  Although 
he  afterwards  perceived  the  inconsistency  of  the  utter- 
ances of  Chalmers  in  this  controversy  with  the  whole 
of  his  previously  declared  opinions  on  Cliurch  and 
State,''  yet  tliere  was  a  boldness  displayed  by  the 
party  at  whose  head  was  his  old  teacher,  and  a 
warmth  and  zeal  for  the  advancement  of  the  Kingdom 
of  Christ,  which  appeared,  to  his  eyes,  in  favom-able 
contrast  with  the  proverbial  coldness  of  the  'Moderates.' 

lie  did  not,  however,  publicly  commit  himself  to 
a.  side,  nor  did  lie,  indeed,  carerully  examine  the 
question,  until  the  thickening  of  the  storm  compelled 
him  to  do  so,  A  speech  delivered  by  Mr.  Whigham, 
then  sheriff  of  Perth,  opened  his  eyes  to  the  true 
nature  of  the  issue  set  before  the  Cliurch.  He  A\ent 
liome  to  Loudoun,  shut  himself  up  in  his  study, 
[)lunged  into  the  history  and  literature  of  the  contro- 
versy, and  fairly  thought  out  for  himself  the  con- 
clusions which  determined  his  line  of  action. 

In  April,  1843,  a  small  section  of  the  Church, 
known  by  the  sobriquet  of  '  The  Forty,'  or  '  The 
Forty  Thieves,'  at(eiii[)ted  to  take  a  middle  course 
betw«H'n    extrcmc^s.      Tlicy    rel'uscHl    to    identity    the 

*  "  Third  Crack  about  the  Kiik,"  imssiin. 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  185 

principle  of  Non-Intrusion  with  the  Veto  Act,  or 
with  its  spirit,  and  were  ready  to  accept  as  a  com- 
promise such  an  arrangement  as  afterwards  became 
law  through  Lord  Aberdeen's  Bill,  by  which  the 
utmost  freedom  was  declared  to  belong  to  the  Presby- 
tery to  decide  on  the  suitableness  of  each  presentee 
to  the  particular  circumstances  of  the  parish  to  which 
he  had  been  nominated  by  the  patron.  They  equally 
differed  from  the  extreme  '  Moderates,'  who  were 
content  with  existing  law,  and  who  did  not  desire 
any  further  popularising  of  the  Church.  '  The  Forty  ' 
would  undoubtedly  have  been  content  had  patronage 
been  done  away  altogether,  and  the  bone  of  contention 
for  ever  removed. 

Shortly  after  the  declaration  of  'The  Forty,'  IN^or- 
man  intimated  to  Dr.  Leishman,  its  leader,  his  wish 
to  append  his  name,  expressing  the  characteristic 
hope  that  '  The  Forty '  would  soon  become  another 
'45,  to  revolutionise  tlie  policy  of  the  Church. 

At  last  the  war  came  to  his  own  door,  and  he 
was  roused  to  a  public  defence  of  his  principles.  A 
deputation  had  been  sent  to  his  parish,  for  the  pur- 
pose of  promoting  secession,  and  of  driving  the  people 
from  his  ministry.  He  at  once  addressed  his  pa- 
rishioners on  the  disputed  question  with  such  effect, 
that  their  loyalty  was  secured  almost  to  a  man.  lie 
next  wrote  a  pamphlet  suited  for  the  common  peoj^le. 
It  was  in  the  form  of  a  dialogue,  conducted  in  pithy 
Scotch,  and  entitled,  'A  Crack  about  the  Kirk.'*  Its 
wit  and  clearness  of  statement  at  once  attracted  atten- 
tion, and  it  passed  rapidly  through  several  editions. 

*  See  Appendix  B. 


i86  LIFE  OF  iXORMAN  .MACLEOD. 

The  first  '  Crack '  was  spcc'dily  followed  by  two 
others,  which  were  hardly  so  racy  in  style,  though 
perhajis  quite  as  powerful  in  argument. 

About  the  same  period  he  found  himself  j) laced  in 
a  position  of  painful  responsibility.     The  case  which 
had  determined  the  non- eligibility  of  Chapel  Ministers 
to  sit  in  Presbyteries  had  been  that  of  Stewarton,  in 
the  Presbytery  of  Irvine.     He  was  moderator  of  the 
Presbytery  when  the  election  of  commissioners,  to  sit 
in  the  ensuing  General  Assembly  of  '43,  was  to  take 
place.     As  moderator  it  was  his  duty  to    keejD  the 
actings  of  the  Presbytery  in  due  form ;  and  as  the 
decision  of  the  Court  of  Session  satisfied  liim  that 
the  ministers  of  Chapels  quoad  sacra   had  no  legal 
position    in    the    Ecclesiastical    Court,    he    declared 
his  determination  not  to  admit  their  votes,  and  in- 
timated that,   should  they  insist  on  retaining  their 
seats  at  the  meeting  of  Presbytery,  he  ^^•ould  then 
separate,  with  all  such  members  as  should  adhere  to 
him,  and  constitute  the  Court  from  a  roll  purged  of 
the  names  of  all  not  legally  qualified.     'A  circum- 
stance had  come  to  his  knowledge,'  he  said,   '  since 
the  last  meeting  that  materially  weighed  with  him  in 
the    step   he   was   about    to   take   at    this   juncture. 
It   had   been   declared  by  the  public  organs  of  the 
Non-Intrusionists,*  and  he  heard  it  stated  frequently 
in  private,  and  never  heard  it  contradicted,  that  it  was 
the  intention  of  the  party  which  was  about  to  secede, 
not  to  retire  merely  as  a  section  of  the  Church,  but, 
by  gaining  a  majority  in  the  Assembly,  to  declare  the 
coniuM'tiou  between  Church  and  State  at  an  end,  and, 

*    V'uh-  Iho  I'ledhi/ltrian  llcriiH',  April,  1843. 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  187 

moreover,  to  excommunicate  those  who  remained  in 
the  Church  as  by  law  established.  He  would  by 
all  constitutional  means,  and  at  all  hazards,  do  all 
that  in  him  lay  to  jDrevent  the  venerable  Establish- 
ment to  which  he  was  attached  from  being  annihi- 
lated, and  himself  and  his  brethren  from  being 
held  up  to  their  people  as  excommunicated  minis- 
ters. And  to  attain  this  object  he  felt  it  neces- 
sary for  the  members  of  Presbytery  to  send  none  but 
legally  qualified  commissioners  to  the  next  Assembly, 
and  he  saw  no  other  possible  course  for  accomplishing 
this  than  separating  from  their  quoad  sacra  brethren. 
He  would  go  further,  j)erhaps,  to  evince  his  love  and 
attachment  to  the  Church  of  his  fathers  than  by  merely 
giving  up  a  stipend  ;  and  to  sejDarate  from  his  brethren 
with   whom   he   had   associated  in   the   Presbytery, 

was  as  sore  a  trial  as  any  he  had  yet  met  with 

While  he  gave  the  utmost  credit  to  his  brethren  on  the 
opposite  side  for  the  sincerity  of  their  intentions,  he 
claimed  the  same  credit  from  them  for  his  conduct  in 
this  matter,  as  being  dictated  by  a  conscientious  sense 
of  duty.'  He  accordingly  separated  with  those  who 
adhered  to  him,  and  the  first  split  in  the  Church  took 
place. 

He  was  a  member  of  the  famous  Assembly  of  '43, 
and  used  to  recount  the  strange  vicissitudes  of  that 
eventful  meeting.  He  gives  some  reminiscences  in 
letters  and  journals,  but  they  are  meagre  compared 
with  those  to  which  his  friends  have  frequently 
listened.  '  The  sacrifices,'  he  often  said,  '  were  cer- 
tainly not  all  on  one  side.'  With  indignant  energy 
he  portrayed  the  trial  it  was  to  the  flesh  to  keep  by 


1 88  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

the  unpopular  side  and  to  act  out  wliat  conseicnoo 
dictated  us  tlie  line  of  duty.  If  it  Mas  hard  to  i;o 
out,  it  "vvas  harder  to  stay  in.  It  "would  have  been 
a  relief  to  have  joined  the  procession  of  those  Avho 
passed  out  amid  the  huzzas  of  the  populace,  and  who 
Tvcrc  borne  on  the  tide  of  enthusiasm, — greeted  as 
martyrs  and  regarded  as  saints,  in  place  of  remaining 
by  the  apparent  wreck  of  all  that  was  lately  a  pros- 
perous Church.  The  heart  sank  at  the  spectacle  of 
those  empty  benches  where  once  sat  Chalmers  and 
AYelsh  and  Gordon,  and  such  able  leaders  as  Candlish 
and  Cunningham ;  while  the  task  of  filling  up  more 
thnn  four  hundred  vacant  charges,  and  reorganizing 
all  the  foreign  missionary  agencies  of  the  Church, 
which  had  in  one  day  disappeared,  was  terribly  dis- 
heartening. There  was  no  encouragement  from  the 
outside  world  for  those  who  began  with  brave  hearts 
to  clear  away  the  wreck.  Scorn  and  hissing  greeted 
them  at  every  turn,  as  men  whose  only  aim  was  'to  abide 
by  the  stuff'.'  One  unpopular  step  had  to  be  resolutely 
taken  after  another,  and  the  impolitic  legislation  of 
the  last  ten  years  reversed.  "Unless  there  had  been 
in  his  mind  a  deep  sense  of  dut}",  Norman  Macleod 
was  the  last  man  in  the  world  to  undertake  the  dreary 
task  Avliich  for  many  a  day  was  assigned  to  him  and 
to  his  brethren.  But  he  did  not  hesitate.  Although 
his  heart  was  burdened  by  its  anxieties,  he  took  his 
place  from  that  day  onward  as  a  'restorer  of  the 
breach,'  and  w\as  spared  to  see  that  the  labours  of  those 
who  endeavoured  in  the  hour  of  danger  to  preserve  the 
blessings  of  an  Established  c'huicli  for  the  country 
Lad  not  been  thrown  away. 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  189 

And  the  history  of  both  Churches  has  since  then 
amply  vindicated  the  position  taken  by  the  party 
which  was  then  ready  to  move  for  reform  without 
disruption.  The  policy  of  'The  Forty '  has  been 
practically  followed  by  the  Church  for  several  years 
past,  and  it  is  that,  on  the  one  hand,  which  has  led  to 
the  gradual  removal  of  the  difficulties  affecting  Chapels 
of  Ease,  by  erecting  them  into  Endowed  Parishes  quoad 
sacra,  and  which,  on  the  other,  has  obtained  from 
Parliament  a  total  repeal  of  the  Law  of  Patronnge. 
The  problems  which  disturbed  the  Church  have  thus 
been  settled  by  patient  and  devoted  labour,  conducted 
in  a  spirit  of  toleration  and  charity  towards  others, 
and  with  an  honest  endeavour  after  reconstruction 
on  a  sure  and  national  ground. 

It  is  not  too  much  to  say  that  to  many  minds 
the  history  of  the  Free  Church  has  presented  a 
marked  contrast  to  this.  In  spite  of  her  great  energy, 
they  believe  that  she  has  failed  to  solve  the  difficulty 
she  herself  raised  as  to  the  relationship  of  Church 
and  State.  In  the  Cardross  case,  her  claim  to  spiri- 
tual independence  within  her  own  denomination  was 
judicially  denied.  May  it  not  therefore  be  questioned 
whether,  after  little  more  than  thirty  years'  existence, 
she  does  not  really  find  herself  without  a  logical 
position  between  Voluntaryism  and  the  Establishment? 

Norman  Macleod  made  two  speeches  during  the 
memorable  Assembly  of  1843 — the  first  being  in  refer- 
ence to  a  motion  of  Dr.  Cook  for  rescinding  the  Veto. 
A  distinguished  minister  of  the  Church,  who  was 
then  a  student,  records  the  deep  impression  which 
this   speech  made.     The  courage  and  Christian  en- 


190  1.1  FK  LF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

thusiasm  of  its  tone,  ho  says,  ins|iin>d  confidciiro  in 
the  licaits  of  many  wlio  were  almost  dospairing,  and 
for  his  own  part  greatly  confirmed  his  loyalty.  AVlien 
lie  heard  it  he  exclaimed,  '  There  is  life  in  the  old 
Church  5'et,'  and  gave  himself  anew  to  its  ministry. 
Only  a  condensed  report  remains  of  this  speech,  but 
the  following  extract  gives  some  idea  of  its  bearing  : — - 
'  Difficult  as  the  task  is  which,  those  who  have  left 
ns  have  assigned  to  us,  I,  for  one,  cheerfully,  but  yet 
with  chastened  and  determined  feelings,  accept  of  it.  I 
do  so,  God  knoweth,  not  for  my  own  ease  and  comfort. 
If  I  consulted  them,  or  any  selfish  feeling,  I  would 
take  the  popular  and  easy  method  of  solving  all 
difficulties,  by  leaving  the  Establishment ;  but  I  am 
not  free  to  do  so.  I  glory  in  declaring  that  this  is 
not  a  Free  Presbyterian  Church.  We  are  not  free  to 
legislate  beyond  the  bounds  of  the  constitution ;  we 
are  not  free  to  gratify  our  own  feelings  at  the  exjicnse 
of  the  good  of  the  country.  Neither  are  we  free  from 
the  weaknesses  and  infirmities  of  humanity — its  fears, 
despondencies,  and  anxieties.  No  !  we  are  bound, 
but  bound  by  honour,  conscience,  and  law — by  the 
cords  of  love  and  afi'ection — to  maintain  our  beloved 
Established  Church,  and,  through  it,  to  benefit  our  dear 
fatherland.  And  I  am  not  afraid.  By  the  grace  of 
God  we  shall  succeed.  We  shall  endeavour  to  ex- 
tinguish the  fire  which  has  been  kindled,  and  every 
fire  but  the  light  of  the  glorious  Gospel,  which  wo 
shall,  I  hope,  fan  into  a  brighter  flame.  And  the 
beautiful  spectacle  which  was  presented  to  us  on 
Sabbath  evening  in  the  dense  crowd  assembled  hero 
to  ask   the  blessiny:  of  God  on  our  beloved  Church, 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  igi 

enabled  me  to  distinguish  amid  tlie  flames  the  old 
motto  flashing  out,  '  Nee  tamen  consumehatur.'  We 
shall  try  to  bring  our  ship  safe  to  harbour,  and  if  "we 
haul  down  the  one  flag  '  Retract !  No,  never  !'  we  shall 
hoist  another,  '  Despair  !  No,  never  ! '  And  if  I  live 
to  come  to  this  Assembly  an  old  man,  I  am  confident 
that  a  grateful  posterity  will  vindicate  our  present 
position,  in  endeavouring,  tlu'ough  good  report  and  bad 
report,  to  preserve  this  great  national  institution  as  a 
blessing  to  them  and  to  their  children's  cliiklrcn.' 

To  the  Eev.  a,  Cleek,  Ardnamurchan. 

Loudoun  Manse,  Filntary  ISth,  1813. 

"  How  thankful  ought  you  to  be  for  your  lot  being  cast 
in  a  parish  which  is  known  only  to  a  few  sea-fowl,  to  Sir 
John  Barrow,  or  the  Trigonometrical  Survey  !  No  convoca- 
tionist  can  find  you  out — no  Witness  or  Guardian  news- 
paper has  any  conception  where  you  are — no  Commission 
would  know  where  to  send  for  you  if  they  wished  to  depose 
you.  The  Church  and  State  may  be  severed  during  your  life 
ere  you  hear  of  the  dissolution,  or  suft'er  by  it.  Happy  recluse ! 
fortunate  eremite !  Pity  a  poor  brother  who  is  tossed  on 
the  sea  of  Lowland  commotion.  He  needs  both  pity  and 
sympathy. 

"  To  be  serious — for  this  is  too  serious  a  time  for  joking — ■ 
I  am  most  anxious  to  give  you  an  account  of  my  personal 
adventures  in  this  troulilous  time,  and  to  lay  before  you, 
for  your  kind,  candid,  and  prayerful  advice,  the  position  in 
which  I  may  very  soon  be  placed.  You  know  how  earnestly 
I  have  tried  to  keep  out  of  this  Church  question.  Not 
that  I  was  by  any  means  indifferent  to  its  imj)ortance,  for  it 
is  connected  with  the  question  of  the  age  (as  it  has  been 
the  question  of  ages  gone  by,  viz.,  the  relation  of  Church 
and  State,  and  their  mutual  duties),  and  which,  in  one  form 
or  other,  is  discussed  over  Europe.  Neither  was  I  indolent 
in  acquiring  information  on  the  subject,  as  my  extensive 
collection   of   pamphlets,    ray   Church  history   notes,    my 


192  LIFI':  (JF  XOFMAN  MACLEOD. 

underlined  Books  of  Discipline,  Acts  of  Assembly  and  of 
Parliament,  my  repeated  conversations  with  men  of  hoih 
parties,  and  my  own  conscience,  can  testify.  But  my  haivi 
does  not  sym})atluze  with  controversy.  I  hate  it.  It  is  the 
worst  way  of  getting  good.  It  is  at  best  a  sore  operation  ; 
rendered,  perhaps,  necessary  by  the  state  of  the  body 
politic — but  nevertheless  a  sore  operation  ;  and  I  hate  the 
cutting,  flaying,  bleeding,  connected — I  fear,  inseparably 
— with  all  such  modes  of  cure.  Besides,  whatever  opinion 
I  might  have  of  their  system  of  Church  and  State  govern- 
ment, I  really  do  not  like  the  atiimus  of  the  Edinburgh 
clique.  There  is  a  domineering,  bullying  temper  about  many 
of  them,  a  sort  of  evangelical  method  of  abusiniic,  •'^ud  a  con- 
scientious  way  of  destroying  a  man's  character  and  making 
him  have  the  appearance  of  being  evil,  which  I  loathe. 
The  cold,  gentlemanly  Moderate,  in  spite  of  his  many  faults, 
is  more  bearable  to  my  flesh  and  blood  than  the  loud- 
speaking  high  professor,  who  has  as  little  real  heart  for 

religion  as  the  other.      I  would  rather than or 

.      The  one  may  be  a  Sadducee,  the  other  looks  like  a 

Pharisee.  I  would  sooner  have  the  glacier  than  the  volcano. 
Pardon  me,  Archy,  for  saying  this,  but  I  am  heartily  vexed 
with  what  I  have  lived  to  see  done  under  the  cloak 
of  Evangelism.  I  now  be<?in  to  understand  how  the 
Puritanism  of  Charles  I.'s  time  should  have  produced 
libertinism  in  the  reign  of  Charles  II. — aye,  and  the 
persecution  too.  Well,  I  am  digressing  from  my  theme. 
I  said  that  I  Avished  to  keep  out  of  this  roiv,  and  to  do 
my  Master's  work  and  will  in  my  dear,  dear  parish.  I 
hoped  to  be  let  alone  to  win  souls  quietly  in  this  sweet 
bay  where  Ave  only  felt  the  pulse-beating  of  that  great 
ocean  Avhich  Avas  roaring  and  raging  outside.  But  no  ! 
The  country  must  be  raised  and  excited,  and  my  parish, 
of  course,  did  not  escape.  When  absent  at  Kilninver,  I 
heard  that  B.  of  L.  and  W.  of  B.  had  been  making  arrange- 
ments for  a  meeting,  both  in  NcAvmilns  and  Darvel.  The 
evening  came — B.  Avas  unAvell,  and  W.  alone  arrived.  The 
place  of  meeting  Avas  tlie  Secession  Church  in  Newmilns 
(contrary  to  ^Ir.  Bruee's  mind),  and  the  Camoronians' 
meeting-place  in  Darvel.      I  went  to  the  first  meeting,  at 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  193 

f?even  o'clock.  Newmilns,  you  know,  has  nearly  two  thou- 
sand inhabitants,  besides  the  country  round.  There  were 
about  a  hundred  in  church  ;  of  these,  sixty  were  Chartists, 
and  the  rest  Dissenters  and  Churchmen.  W.  spoke  for 
an  hour — very  tamely  and  very  lamely,  I  thought,  but 
was  perfectly  civil.  If  you  only  heard  his  arguments  ! 
The  gist  of  the  first  part  of  his  speech  was  this : — The 
Church  ought  to  obey  the  Bible — the  Bible  says,  '  Beware 
of  false  prophets  ;'  '  Try  the  spirits,'  &c.  These  are  com- 
mands, duties  which  must  be  performed,  and  necessarily 
imply  liberty  and  power  on  the  part  of  the  Christian 
people  to  judge.  The  ergo  was  the  amusing  thing  from 
these  premises — ergo,  the  Church  passed  the  Veto  Act ! 
which  gave  the  privilege  to  the  male  heads  of  families  to 
object !  He  went  on  thus  until  he  came  to  that  which  a 
sausac^e  has — the  end,  and  then  said  that  if  any  elders 
or  communicants  present  wished  to  sign  their  names  to 
certain  resolutions  they  would  have  an  opportunity,  and 
mentioned  how  successful  he  had  been  in  other  parishes.  I 
could  stand  this  no  longer,  but  sprang  up — to  the  visible 
astonishment  of  W. — and  told  the  people  if  they 
had  any  confidence  in  me  not  to  give  him  one  name,  and 
I  would  take  an  early  opportunity  of  satisfying  them 
that  the  question  was  a  much  more  difficult  one  than  it 

was  represented  to  be  by  Mr.  W .      He  said  nothing, 

but  gave  the  blessinof ! — for  what,  no  one  knew,  for  he  did 
not  get  one  name  !  In  Darvel,  however,  he  got  twenty 
or  so.  Well,  on  Sabbath,  after  explaining  my  position, 
I  intimated  a  meeting  with  my  people  upon  the  Tuesday 
following.  I  had  been  reading  hard  for  Aveeks  on  the  sub- 
ject, and  had  the  facts  at  my  finger  ends.  The  evening 
came,  and  the  church  was  crammed  with  all  sects  and 
parties.  I  do  believe  I  never  had  a  greater  pressure  on 
my  soul  than  I  had  before  this  meeting.  I  did  not  so 
much  possess  the  subject  as  the  subject  possessed  me. 
Between  anxiety  to  do  right,  and  a  feeling  of  degradation 
that  I  should  be  looked  upon  by  even  one  Christian  brother 
as  inimiea;  to  the  Church  of  Scotland,  not  to  speak  of  the 
Church  of  Christ,  I  wri,!:;  so  overcome  that  during  the 
singing  of  the  Psalm — 

VOL,  I.  o 


194  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

'  Therefore  I  wish  that  peace  may  still 
Within  thy  walls  reiiuiin,' 

I  wept  like  a  very  child.  I  spoke,  however,  for  threB- 
i\nd-!i-li!ilf  hours,  and  not  a  soul  moved  !  Never  did  I  see 
such  an  attentive  audience. 

"  The  result  has  been  most  gratifying.  Of  ton  elders 
not  one  has  left  me !  This  is  singular,  as  I  believe 
only  two  in  the  whole  town  of  Kilmarnock  have  refused 
to  join  the  Convocation.  The  people  are  nearly  unanimous, 
or,  at  all  events,  are  so  attached  to  me  personally  that  they 
are  about  to  present  to  me  a  gold  watch  and  an  address 
from  all  parties.  I  would  be  very  ungrateful  to  God  if  I 
were  not  both  gratified  and  humbled  l)y  this  proof  of  my  dear 
people's  good-will  to  me. 

"  So  far  all  has  been  well  in  my  parish.  But  here 
comes  a  row  in  the  Presbytery,  Avhich  I  greatly  fear  will 
be  followed  by  more  serious  consecpiences.  I  am  Moderator. 
You  know,  of  course,  the  decision  in  the  Stewarton  case. 
At  the  first  meeting  after  that  decision,  when  the  Inter- 
locutor from  the  Court  of  Session  was  laid  upon  the  table, 
it  Avas  moved  that  the  names  of  the  minister  and  elder 
affected  by  it  should  be  struck  off  the  roll.  A  counter- 
motion  was  made  and  carried,  that  the  business  of  the  Pres- 
bytery be  suspended,  and  the  case  referred  to  the  Com- 
mission for  advice.  Against  this  finding  we  all  (i.e.,  the 
'  Moderates ')  protested.  At  that  meeting  the  '  Moderates ' 
had  a  minority  of  the  lawful  members  of  court.  But  at 
next  meeting  we  are  satisfied  that  we  shall  have  a  majority 
among  the  lawful  members,  i.e.,  exclusive  of  all  the  Quoad 
Sacra  ministers.  What  is  to  be  done  ?  '  A  question  to  be 
asked.'  At  a  private  meeting,  by  the  advice  of  counsel,  it 
was  proposed — and,  I  fear,  agreed  to — that  I  should  insist 
on  the  legal  roll  only  being  read  when  the  vote  is  taken 
rcfrardinLT  the  admission  of  the  ministers  Quoad  Sacra  to  the 
court — that,  in  the  event  of  a  legal  majority  agreeing  to 
dismiss  them,  we  should  adjourn  the  meeting  for  a  few 
minutes,  then  constitute  the  court  anew,  and,  if  any  Chapel 
minister  insisted  on  remaining  in  spite  of  our  decision,  to 
turn  him  out.      This  is,  in  all  truth,  decided  enough. 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  195 

"  The  reasons  for  it  are  : — 

"  1.  By  thus  forming  ourselves  into  a  legal  Presbytery 
by  the  vote  of  a  legal  majority,  we  are  enabled  to  stop  the 
appeal  to  the  House  of  Lords  on  the  Stewarton  case — the 
decision  on  which  by  the  Court  of  Session  we  know  there 
is  not  the  slightest  chance  of  being  reversed — and  which 
we  know  there  is  no  intention  of  following  out,  the 
appeal  only  being  to  gain  time — but  which  is  throwing 
obstacles  in  the  way  of  those  members  in  other  presbyteries 
who,  but  for  the  appeal,  would  form  themselves  into  con- 
stitutional courts. 

2.  We  would  thus  send  moderate  men  (in  the  right 
sense  of  the  word)  to  next  Assembly,  This  is  of  great 
consequence,  as  it  is  understood — the  Aberdeen  Banner 
makes  no  secret  of  it — that  the  Assembly  may  declare  the 
Church  severed  from  the  State  and  hold  as  schismatics  all 
who  differ  from  that  dictum,  authoritatively  uttered  by  the 
Assembly.  Now  we  wish  to  have  a  set  of  decent  fellows 
to  be  presided  over  b}'-  the  Commissioner.  These  are  the 
reasons  for  our  movement,  in  addition  to  the  more  obvious 
one  that  all  our  proceedings,  quoad  civilia  at  least,  are  de 
facto  null  and  void  as  long  as  these  ministers  are  with  us. 

"  On  the  other  hand,  will  not  this  step  settle  the 
question  as  to  whether  both  parties  can  remain  together  any 
longer  ?  1.  We  separate.  2.  The  Commission  meets  and 
suspends  us.  3.  We  deny  the  right  of  a  body  illegally 
constituted  to  do  so.  4.  We  send  Commissioners  to  the 
Assembly.  5.  Our  party  receives  them,  the  other  party 
rejects  them.  6.  The  receiving  party  appeals  to  the  Com- 
missioner as  to  which  is  the  Established  Church,  and  then 
comes  the  split — and  all  this  by  my  vote  and  determina- 
tion as  Moderator  !  !  ! 

"  Is  this  not  a  fix  for  a  quiet-living  man  like  me  to  be 
placed  in?  Is  it  not  enough  to  make  a  man's  hair  grey? 
What  is  to  be  done  ?  '  I  would,'  as  Sir  John  says,  '  you 
would  practise  an  answer.* 

"  Our  meeting  is  on  the  first  Tuesday  of  March.  Send 
me  your  opinion,  as  a  Christian  man,  before  that.  How  do 
you  think  I  can  best  discharge  my  duty  to  the  law,  the 
Church,  my  people,  and  to  myself,  and  consequently  to  God  ? 

o  2 


196  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Yon  ohsorve  I  take  for  G-ranted  tlie  [)rinci})le — on  which 
you  neotl  not  artifuo — that  in  any  question  rt-latintr  to  tlie 
privileges  granted  by  the  State  to  the  Cluirch,  neither  tlie 
Church,  on  the  one  hand,  nor  the  State,  on  the  other,  is 
the  judge  ;  but  a  third  party,  namely,  the  Civil  Courts, 
■whose  duty  it  is  to  say  what  the  Statute  Law  is.  There- 
fore, I  hold  their  decision  in  the  Stewarton  case  right  de 
jure.  At  the  same  time  I  will  use  every  effort  to  get  the 
ministers  of  Quoad  Sacra  churches  legally  into  the  Church. 
The  decision  just  makes  us  fall  back  to  what  we  were 
before  '34. 

I  have  some  thoughts  of  splitting  the  difficulty  in  the 
Presbytery  by  asking  leave  to  withdraw  from  the  Court, 
protesting  against  all  consequences  Avhich  may  follow  from 
letting  these  men  in ;  and  if  the  other  party  do  not 
agree  to  this,  then  to  run  my  big  jib  np  and  bear  away  for 
another  Presbytery.  I  am  satisfied  that  a  great  mass  of 
the  community  is  sick  of  this  business.  The  people  feel 
no  practical  evil — and  no  nation  was  ever  yet  roused  to 
revolution  by  a  mere  theory.  Had  it  not  been  for  indul- 
gences and  such  like  practical  evils  Luther  would  not  have 
had  material  with  which  to  begin  the  war,  though,  after  it 
was  once  begun  oj)inions  could  keep  it  agoing.  If  the 
Covenanters  had  not  been  shot  and  bayoneted,  no  theory 
regarding  Church  or  State  would  have  made  them  sleep  in 
moss-bogs  or  fight  at  Drumclog. 

"  What  did  you  think  of  C.  of  C.  saying,  '  The  Lord 
Jesus  Christ  Avill  have  left  the  Church  when  we  go'  !  One  of 
the  Rothesay  ministers,  I  am  told,  said  the  other  day,  that  the 
Devil  was  preparing  a  cradle  in  hell  for  the  op[)osition  ! 
Yet  I  daresay,  in  a  century  after  this,  we  shall  have  some 
partisan  historian  writing  whining  books  about  these 
persecuted,  self-denying,  far-seeing  saints,  and  describing 
all  who  oppose  them  as  lovers  of  the  fleece,  dumb  dogs,  and 
all  that  trash." 


To  his  sister  J.SNF, :  — 

"I  am  very  dowlc  and  cast  down — not  because  I  am  alone, 
for  T  love  the  bachelor  life  every  day  more  and  more,  and 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  iq-} 

delight  in  the  independence  Avith  which  I  can  rise,  ent, 
read,  write  when  I  like  ! — but  this  Church  of  ours  is  R-oinof 
between  me  and  my  sleep. 

"  There  was  a  private  meeting  of  our  party  the  day 
before  yesterday  at  Irvine.  All  that  was  done  was  strictly 
private  but  most  important ;  and  only  think  of  this — just 
think  of  it — that  I,  Norman  Macleod,  shall  certainly  be 
OBLIGED  to  make  the  move  which  will  beyond  a  doubt 
first  separate  the  Church  into  two  parts  !  !  This  is  in  con- 
fidence. It  is  making  my  head  grey.  As  Strong  saj's,  I 
am  this  moment  the  Archbishoj)  of  Canterbury.  My  simple 
vote  as  Moderator  will  decide  the  game  one  way  or  another. 
In  short,  the  hurricane  is  only  beginning.  The  explosion 
is  to  come,  and  / .' .' .'  must  fire  the  train.  Well,  I  think 
I  will  get  enough  of  acting  now,  and  no  mistake.  Sus- 
pension, and  anathemas  loud  and  deep  from  the  Witness, 
are  all  before  me  as  possibilities.  You  can  fancy  my 
cogitations,  my  Avorking  out  of  problems.  David  Strong 
came  here  and  spent  yesterday  with  me.  He  went  away 
to-day.    We  had  a  delightful  walk  together.     He  goes  with 

us,  and  we  feel  as  one.     I  gave  a  great  blowing  up  to , 

Avho  said  with  a  sneer  when  he  heard  me  express  my 
many  difficulties,  '  Oh,  it  is  quite  plain  that  Macleod 
does  not  like  it !'  '  Like  it  !'  I  said,  turninof  round  on  him 
like  a  tiger,  '  let  me  assure  you,  sir,  that  I  look  upon  it  as 
one  of  the  sorest  trials  that  has  ever  come  my  way,  and 
that  I  would  give  a  year's  stipend  and  ten  times  more  to 
get  quit  of  it.'     All  the  others  backed  me." 

To  the  Same  :-- 

Edinburgh,  Thursday  Morning,  Ha' f -past  Feven,  May,  1843. 

"  The  day  has  come,  beautiful  in  the  physical  world,  but 
thundery  and  ominous  in  the  moral  one.  All  the  '  Con- 
vocationists '  are  going  out.  They  have  been  unanimous. 
No  vote  is  to  be  taken  on  any  point.  They  lodge  a  pro- 
test and  walk.  The  excitement  is  prodigious.  I  am  very 
sad,  but  in  no  way  frightened.  INIany  are  acting  from  fear 
of  public  opinion  as  much  as  anything  else.  .  .  ." 


1 9ft  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  the  Same  : — 

Thursday  h'vetiing,  Mny  18,  1843. 

"  They  are  off.  Four  hundred  and,  fifty  ministers  and 
elders,  one  hinuh-ed  and  fifty  member^.  Three  have  gone 
since  the  Queen's  letter  was  read.  Welsh's  sermon  wa.s 
the  heaiL  ideal  of  one.  Everything  in  their  conduct  was 
diijnified. 

"  God  bless  all  the  serious  among  them.  The  row  is 
only  beginning.  I  am  to  protest  against  the  Strathbogies. 
I  am  lighter  than  in  the  morning,  though,  very  jtZoiyie.  I 
think  we  may,  by  God's  blessing,  survive.  An  immense 
crowd  in  the  New  Assembly.  Welsh,  and  then  Chalmers, 
moderator.  The  procession  was  solemn,  I  am  told.  Some 
sad,  but  others  laugJiing !  The  contrast  between  the  old 
and  the  young  was  very  striking. 

"  P.S. — They  are  out  of  the  Church." 

"  I  take  my  stand  for  Constitutional  Reform.  We 
are  at  our  worst.  If  we  survive  this  week  we  shall  swim. 
How  my  soul  rises  against  those  men,  who  have  left  us 
to  rectify  their  blundering,  and  then  laugh  at  our  inability 
to  do  so." 

To  tie  Same  :— 

Tuesday,  May  23. 

"  I  have  but  five  minutes.  The  Strathbogie  case  is 
over,  thank  God !  I  think  we  may  swim.  It  was  to  me  a 
terrible  night.  I  spoke  till  half-past  twelve  p.m.  I  voted 
twice  yesterday  against  my  old  friends.  I  could  not  help 
it.  I  followed  my  own  judgment.  Great  gloom,  but  not 
despair.  Four  hundred  and  fifty  have  this  day  for  ever 
abandoned  the  Church." 

To  the  Same  : — 

Thursday^ 

"  No  one  but  a  member  of  Assembly — and  of  such  an 
Assembly  as  the  present — can  undi-rstand  how  difficult  a 
thing  it  is  to  command  quiet  time  and  quiet  thoughts,  so  as 
to  bo  enabled  to  write  a  legible  and  interesting  letter.  I 
am  unfit  for  the  task. 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  199 

"  We  are  going  ahead  slowly  ;  our  disagreeable  Avork 
is  now  nearly  over.  We  yesterday  reached  zero,  when 
the  whole  Free  Presbyterians  form  dly  resigned  their  status 
as  parish  ministers.  I  believe  I  intensely  realise  the  posi- 
tion of  our  Church,  which  some  of  the  Aberdeenshire 
'  Moderates '  do  not.  The  best  temper  j)revails  in  the 
Assembly  upon  the  whole,  but  upon  our  weak  side  there  is  a 
general  gloom  when  contemplating  the  awful  task  before  us 
of  filling  up  four  hundred  and  thirty  vacancies,  in  the  face  of 
an  agitation  conducted  by  four  hundred  and  thirty  sworn, 
able,  energetic  enemies.  I  look  forward  to  five  years  as 
the  period  of  reaction.  We  shall  have,  1,  fearful  religious 
excitement  or  hysterical  revivals,  the  women  and  ladies 
leading  ;  2,  starvation  from  the  effect  of  voluntaryism  ;  3, 
ect'lesiastical  tyranny  ;  4,  a  strong  united  combination  of 
all  Dissenters  against  '  all  the  Establishments  of  this  coun 

try,'  to  borrow 's  words  ;  and  when  these  features  of 

this  secession  begin  to  manifest  themselves  then,  but  not 
till  then,  will  the  tide  fully  turn. 

"  I  wait  in  hope  and  with  patience.  I  am  ashamed  at 
the  cowardice  and  terror  of  many  of  our  ministers.  I  feel 
the  secession  deeply,  but  I  am  possessed  with  a  most 
chivalrous  and  firm  determination  to  live  and  die  fighting 
for  this  bulwark  of  Protestantism,  this  ark  of  righteousness, 
this  conservator  of  social  order  and  religious  liberty,  the 
dear  old  Kirk. 

"  May  God  help  us,  and  then  I  will  not  fear  what  man 
can  do.      I  trust  that  posterity  will  vindicate  our  doings. 

It  is  for  future  generations  we  are  now  suffering. 

lias  tried  to  cut  up  my  speech,  but  he  must  have 
known  that  I  never  meant  what  he  alleges.  But 
there  is,  I  grieve  to  think  it,  a  great  want  of  honour 
mnongst  a  certain  set  of  these  men.  I  am  just  informed 
that  I  am  to  be  offered  an  Edinburgh  church.  This  will 
put  a  finish  to  my  troubles.  I  dare  not  think  of  the 
subject.  I  hope  I  have  one  feeling — a  desire  to  sacrifice 
myself  for  my  country  ;  but  whether  will  I  do  most  good, 
in  Loudoun,  dear  Loudoun,  or  here  ?  As  to  the  living, 
poor  as  it  is,  and  much  as  I  have  to  pa}',  I  could  bear 
with  it." 


too  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

To  the  Same  :— 

M<ixj  21,  1843. 

"  I  am  at  present,  I  begin  to  suspect,  rather  a  black 
sheep  among  the  '  iModerates,'  because  I  dare  to  have  a 
mind  of  my  own,  and  to  act  as  a  check,  though  a 
fearfully  trifling  one,  on  their  power.  Another  day 
is  coming  ;  and,  come  what  may,  there  shall  be  one  free 
Presbyterian  in  Scotland  who  will  not  give  up  his  own 
understanding  or  conscience  to  living  man. 

"  I  inttiud  to  give  ni}'  farewell  speech  on  Monday.  We 
have  been  as  cold  as  ice  and  looking  as  if  we  were  all  to  be 
shot.  The  Free  Church  is  carrying  it  on  most  nobly.  They 
know  human  nature  better  than  we  do.  But  defence  never 
has  the  glory  of  attack.  I  leave  all  to  posterity,  and  am  not 
afraid  of  the  verdict.  I  saw  a  tomb  to-day  in  the  Chapel  of 
Holyrood  with  this  inscription,  '  Here  lies  an  honest  man.' 
I  only  wish  to  live  in  such  a  way  as  to  entitle  me  to  have 
the  same  eloge. 

"  My  Father  is  off.      My  soul  is  sick." 

From  his  Journax  : — 

"June  2nd,  1843. — I  have  returned  from  the 
Assembly  of  1843,  one  which  will  be  famous  in  the 
annals  of  the  Church  of  Scotland.  Yet  who  will  ever 
know  its  real  history  ?  The  great  movements,  the  grand 
results,  will  certainly  be  known,  and  everything  has 
been  done  in  the  way  most  calculated  to  tell  on  posterity 
(for  how  many  have  been  acting  before  its  eyes  1)  ;  but 
who  in  the  next  century  will  know  or  understand  the  ten 
thousand  secret  influences,  the  vanity  and  pride  of  some, 
the  love  of  applause,  the  fear  and  terror,  of  others,  and, 
above  all,  the  seceding  mania,  the  revolutionary  mesmerism, 
which  I  have  witnessed  within  these  fcAV  days  ? 

"It  Avas  impossible  to  watch  the  progress  of  this  schism 
without  seeing  that  it  was  inevitable. 

"  To  pass  and  to  maintain  at  all  hazards  laws,  which  by 
the  highest  authorities  were  declared  to  be  inconsistent 
with  and  subversive  of  civil  statutes,  could  end  only  in 
breaking  up  the  Establi.shment.    So  Dr.  Cook  said.    So  Dr. 


THE  DISRUPTL:N  controversy.  2or 

McCvie  said  in  his  evidence  before  the  House  of  Commons. 
The  Procurator  told  me  that  when  the  Veto  Law  was  first 
proposed,  Lord  Moncrieff  gave  it  as  his  opinion  tliat  the 
Church  had  power  to  jjass  it ;  that  he  was  unwilHng  to  go 
to  Parhameut  for  its  approval  until  it  was  certain  that  its 
approval  was  necessary,  but  that  should  this  become 
apparent,  then  unquestionably  the  Church  ought  to  apply 
for  a  legislative  enactment.  This  advice  was  not  taken, 
and  all  the  subsequent  difficulties  have  arisen  out  of  the 
determination  to  force  that  law. 

"  The  event  which  made  a  disruption  necessary  was  the 
deposition  of  the  Strathbogie  ministers  for  obeying  the 
interpretation  of  statute  law  given  by  the  civil  court, 
instead  of  that  given  by  the  Church  court.  The  moment 
one  part  of  the  Church  solemnly  deposed  them,  and 
another  as  solemnly  determined  to  treat  them  as  not 
deposed,  the  Church  became  virtually  two  Churches,  and 
their  separation  became  inevitable. 

'*  Thursday,  the  18th,  was  a  beautiful  day  ;  but  a  general 
sense  of  oppression  was  over  the  town.  Among  many  of 
the  seceding  party,  upon  that  and  on  the  successive  days 
of  the  Assembly,  there  was  an  assumed  levity  of  manner 
— a  smiling  tone  of  countenance,  which  seemed  to  say, 
*  Look  what  calm,  cool,  brave  martyrs  we  are.'  There 
were  two  incidents  which  convinced  me  that  the  old 
and  soberer  part  of  the  seceders  had  a  very  different  feel- 
ing from  the  younger  and  more  violent,  regarding  the  mag- 
nitude and  consequence  of  this  movement.  I  was  in  St. 
Giles's  half  an  hour  before  Welsh  began  his  sermon  ;  two 

or  three  benches  before  me and  ,  with  a  few 

of  this  }iot  orenus  omne,  were  chatterinof  and  lauo'liinsf. 
During  the  singing  of  the  Paraphrase  old  Brown  (dear, 

good  man)  of  St.  John's,  Glasgow,  was  weeping  ;  but ■ 

was  idly  staring  round  the  church.  So  in  the  procession 
some  were  smiling  and  appeared  heedless,  but  the  old  men 
were  sad  and  cast  down,  Welsh's  sermon  was  in  ex- 
quisite taste,  and  very  calm  and  dignified ;  but  its  senti- 
ments, I  thought,  were  a  century  ahead  of  many  of  his 
convocation  friends.  His  prayer  at  the  opening  of  the 
Assembly  Avas  also  beautiful.     The  Assembly  presented  a 


202  LITE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

stirriiig  sitrlit.  ]jiit  still  I  was  struck  by  the  smiling  of 
several  on  the  socedincf  side,  as  if  to  sliow  how  liifht  their 
hearts  were  when,  methinks,  they  had  no  cause  to  be  so 
at  the  beginning  of  such  a  great  revolution.  The  subse- 
quent movements  of  the  two  Assemblies  are  matters  of 
history.  The  hissing  an<l  cheering  in  the  galleries  and 
along  the  line  of  procession  were  tremendous. 

"  Never  did  I  pass  such  a  frirtnight  of  care  and  anxiety. 
Never  did  men  engage  in  a  task  with  more  ojij^ression  of 
spirit  than  we  did,  as  we  tried  to  preserve  this  Church  for 
the  bonotit  of  our  children's  children. 

"  The  Assembly  Avas  called  upon  to  perform  a  work  full 
of  difficulty,  arid  to  do  such  unpopular  things  as  restoring 
the  Strathbotjie  ministers,  rescindinc^  the  Yeto,&c.  We  were 
hissed  by  the  mob  in  the  galleries,  looked  coldly  on  by  many 
Christians,  ridiculed  as  enemies  to  the  true  Church,  as 
lovers  of  ourselves,  seeking  the  fleece  ;  and  yet  what  was 
nearest  my  own  heart  and  that  of  my  friends  was  the  wish 
to  preserve  this  Establishment  for  the  well-being  of  Britain. 
While'  the  persecuted  martyrs  of  the  covenant'  met  amid 
the  huzzas  and  applauses  of  the  multitude,  with  thousands 
of  pounds  daily  pouring  in  upon  them,  and  nothing  to  do 
but  what  was  in  the  highest  degree  popular  ;  nothing  but 
self-denial  and  a  desire  to  sacrifice  name  and  fame,  and  all 
l.ut  honour,  to  my  country,  could  have  kept  me  in  the 
Assembly.  There  Avas  one  feature  of  the  Assembly 
which  I  shall  never  forget,  and  that  was  the  fever  of  seces- 
sion, the  restless  nervous  desire  to  fly  to  the  Free  Church. 
No  new  truth  had  come  to  light,  no  new  event  had  been 
developed,  but  there  was  a  species  of  frenzy  which  seized 

men,  and  aA\'ay  they  went.     One  man  ( ,  of )  said 

to  me,  '  I  must  go  ;  I  am  a  lover  of  the  Establishment,  but 
last  autumn  I  signed  the  convocation  resolutions.  All  my 
people  will  leave  me.  I  never  will  take  a  church  left 
vacant  by  my  seceding  brethren.  If  I  do  not,  I  am  a 
beggar.  If  I  stay,  I  lose  all  character.  I  must  go ;'  and 
away  he  went,  sick  at  heart ;  and  many  I  know  have 
been  unconsciously  led  step  by  step,  by  meetings,  by 
pledges,  by  rash  statements,  into  a  position  which  they 
sincerely  lament  but  cannot  help.     There  are  many  un- 


TFIE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  203 

willing  Lntimers  in  that  hoAs.  This  I  know  right  well  It 
amuses  me,  who  have  been  much  behind  the  scenes,  to  refid 
the  lithogrnphed  names  of  some  as  hollow-hearted  fellows 
as  ever  ruined  a  country  from  love  of  glory  and  applause. 
But  there  are  also  many  others  there  who  would  do  honour 
tc  any  cause. 

"  What  is  to  be  the  upshot  of  this  ? 

"1.  The  first  rock  I  fear  is  fanaticism  in  Ross-shire  and 
other  parts  of  the  country,  such  as  has  been  witnessed  only 
in  Am^'ica.  I  have  already  heard  of  scenes  and  expres- 
sions which  would  hardly  be  credited.  [Nov. — The  riots  in 
Ross-shire  show  that  this  has  been  fulfilled  !) 

"  2.  A  union  with  all  the  Voluntaries  to  overthrow  the 
Establishments  of  this  country. 

"  3.  Ecclesiastical  despotism  on  the  jDart  of  the  laity  and 
influential  clergy. 

"  4.  The  consequence  of  this  will  be,  the  retiring  of  the 
more  sober-minded  from  their  ranks. 

"5.  Action,  excitement,  and  perpetual  motion  are  abso- 
kitely  necessary  to  the  existence  of  this  Free  Church  ;  and 
it  is  impossible  as  yet  to  foresee  whether  it  will  blow  up 
itself,  or  blow  up  the  whole  British  constitution,  or  sink 
into  paltry  dissent. 

"  I  hope  it  will  also  stir  up  the  Establishment  and 
purify  us,  make  us  more  self-sacrificing  and  self-denying 
than  ever,  and  so  all  these  disasters  may  advance  the 
Redeemer's  glory. 

'■'Aug.  14. — What  an  important  period  of  my  personal 
Itistory  has  passed  since  I  wrote  my  last  Diary  !  Since 
the  division  in  the  Presbytery  of  Irvine  until  this  moment 
the  troubles  in  the  Church,  the  writing  of  pamphlets,  the 
disruption,  the  Assembly,  the  preachings,  the  attending 
meetings,  the  refusing  of  parishes,  has  altogether  formed 
a  time  long  to  be  remembered. 

"  Let  me  try  and  jot  a  mere  table  of  contents. 

"  1. PUBLIC   LIFE. 

"1.  I  was  Moderator  of  the  Presbytery  when  it  separated 
on  the  business  of  the  ministers  of  Quoad  Sacra  churches. 


204.  ^'JFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

I  moved  to  rctiro,  probably  never  as  a  presbytery  to  meet 
again  !  I  did  yiis,  after  much  liesitation  and  many  deep 
and,  I  hope,  prayerful  anxieties,  (1)  Because  I  believed 
that  it  was  law.  (2)  Because  while  it  was  the  law,  as  stated 
by  the  courts  of  the  country,  which  I  conceive  were 
alone  competent  to  do  so,  and  so  the  condition  on  which 
the  Church  was  established,  it  did  not  interfere  with  the 
law  of  Christ,  as  I  see  nothing  in  the  New  Testament  which 
makes  it  necessary  for  ministers  to  rule  in  Church  courts. 
The  preservation  of  the  Establishment  I  felt  to  te  more 
necessary.  (3)  It  was  the  avowed  intention  of  the  High 
Church  party  to  get  the  majority  in  the  Assembly  by  means 
of  the  Quoad  Sacras  (the  appeal  to  the  Lords  being  a  sham, 
and  as  such  droj)ped  immediately  after  the  commissioners 
were  elected),  and  then,  as  the  Assembly  of  the  National 
Church,  to  dissolve  the  connection  between  Church  and 
State,  excommunicatinsf  those  who  mit>ht  remain. 

"  In  these  circumstances  I  saw  only  one  inxth.  open  for 
mo,  i.e.,  to  form  ourselves  into  a  separate  Presbytery,  and 
send  pro[)er  commissioners  to  the  Assembly. 

"  2.  I  was  a  member  of  the  Assembly.  It  is  now  a 
matter  of  history. 

"The  '  Moderates'  were  too  much  blamed.  I  o[)posed 
them.  I  could  do  so.  I  was  a  free  man,  but  they  were 
pledged.  They  could  act  only  as  they  did  in  treating  the 
Strathbogie  deposition  as  null  and  void,  i.e.,  wrong — being 
on  wrong  grounds — and  in  rescinding  the  veto.  I  believe  the 
Act  of  '79,  respecting  the  admission  of  ministers  of  other 
Churches  to  our  pulpits,  was  restored  for  this  reason, 
viz.,  had  this  Act  not  been  restored,  and  had  a  weak  brother 
in  the  Establishment  been  asked  for  the  use  of  his  pulpit 
by  a  Free  Churchman,  he  must  either  have  given  it  or 
refused  it.  If  he  did  the  first,  it  would  have  been  made 
the  lever  for  overthrowing  the  interests  of  the  Church  in 
that  parish.  If  he  did  the  last,  he  would  be  held  up  to 
the  scorn  of  the  people  as  a  coward  or  a  tyrant.      Nothing 

is  more  ludicrous  than 's  assertion  that  by  this  Act 

the  Ch  irch  has  excommunicated  Christendom  !  Wliy, 
he  and  his  party  were  in  power  nine  ycai's  whiie  the 
existing  law  was  the  law  of  the  Church  ! 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  205 

**  The  last  Assembly  saw  the  Church  at  its  lowest  ebb. 
The  reforming  party  was  represented  by  our  poor  fifteen. 
They  alone  by  vote  and  dissent  opposed  the  '  Moderates,' 
and  formed  a  kind  of  nucleus  for  a  strong  party.  We  are 
now  as  Dr.  Thomson  was  twenty  years  ago.  But  the  limits 
of  the  powers  of  the  Establishment  are  better  defined.  AVe 
have  already  received  a  lesson  not  to  reform  beyond  these 
limits  ;  but  I  believe  next  Assembly  will  exhibit  a  strong 
party  determined  to  popularise  the  Church  as  far  as  possible 
within  these  limits,  and,  if  possible,  to  extend  them.  For 
my  own  part,  I  think  it  is  a  principle,  a  political  neces- 
sity, to  mtdve  the  Church  acceptable  to  the  people,  as  far 
as  Bible  principle  will  permit.  I  rather  think  tlie 
struggle  against  patronage  is  to  be  renewed,  and  that 
twenty  years  will  see  its  death.  The  question  will  soon  be 
tried — a  republican  Church  Establishment  or  disestablish- 
ment. I  would  sooner  have  the  first.  If  we  attempt  to 
recede  we  shall  be  crushed  like  an  old  bandbox. 

"  The  reason  why  I  can  conscientiously  remain  in  the 
Church  is  simply  because  I  believe  I  have  spiritual  liberty 
to  obey  every  thing  in  God's  Word.  I  know  of  no  verse 
in  it  which  I  cannot  obey  as  well  as  any  seceder  can.  This 
suffices  me. 

"  Daring  this  controversy  I  published  two  small  brochures 
entitled  '  Cracks  about  the  Kirk  for  Kintra  Folk.'  The  first 
sold  well.  It  went  through  eight  editions  one  thousand 
each,  the  second  through  four.      They  did  much  good. 

"Since  the  disruption  I  have  been  offered  the  first  charge 
of  Cupar,  Fife  ;  Maybole  ;  Campsie  (by  all  the  male  com- 
municants) ;  St.  John's,  Edinburgh  ;  St.  Ninian's,  Stirling- 
shire ;  Tolbooth,  Edinburgh  ;  and  the  elders  and  otht^'s 
m  the  West  Church,  Greenock,  have  petitioned  for  me. 
As  yet  I  have  refused  all  but  the  last  two.  These  have 
only  come  under  my  notice  last  week. 

"  I  shall  ever  bear  on  my  heart  a  grateful  remeniljrance 
of  the  kindness  and  deep  Christian  affection  shown  to  me 
by  the  people  here.  When  I  nearly  accepted  Campsie,  I 
found  many  whom  I  thought  rocks,  sending  forth  tears, 
and  gathered  fruit  from  Avhat  appeared  stony  ground. 
God  has,  I  believe,  blessed  my  ministry,      ^ow,  ail  this 


2o6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

and  ton  times  more  than  I  can  mention  occiirred  just 
as  I  had  made  up  my  mind  not  to  go  to  Campsie, 

"  Oct.  IGth. — I  was  elected  on  the  IGth  of  September  to 
the  Tolbooth  Church,  Edinburgh,  unanimously.  On  the 
17th  of  the  same  month  the  Duke  of  Buccleuch's  Commis- 
sioner, Mr.  Scott  Moncrieff,  came  here  and  offered  me  the 
2)arish  of  Dalkeith. 

"  On  the  very  day  of  my  election  to  Edinburgh,  I  went 
to  see  Dalkeith  ;  and  on  my  return  home  I  sent  a  letter 
acce[)ting  it.  One  reason  among  others  for  preferring 
Dalkeith  to  Edinburgh  is,  that  I  prefer  a  country 
parish  to  a  town  because  I  am  in  better  health,  and 
because  the  fever  and  excitement  and  the  kind  of  work 
on  Sabbath  days  and  week  days  in  Edinburgh  would  do 
me  much  harm,  bodily  and  spiritually. 

"  But  why  do  I  leave  Loudoun — dear,  dear  Loudoun  ? 
Because 

[Here  follows  a  blank  page,  and  on  it  this  entry  :  — 

"  1845. — Keviewing  this,  I  find  this  page  blank.  Why, 
I  cannot  tell  ;  perhaps  hardly  knew.  But  I  know  I  was 
convinced  that  I  ought  to  accept  Dalkeith,  and  I  do  not 
repent  as  far  as  Dalkeith  is  concerned — but,  poor 
Loudoun  ! " 

To  Eev.  Wm.  Leitcii  : — 

July  21,  1843. 

"I  have  been  fearfully  occupied  of  late.  Indeed  I  am 
sick — sick  of  books,  pamphlets,  parsons,  and  parishes. 
Would  we  had  an  Liquisition  I  One  glorious  auto-da-ffe 
would  finish  the  whole  question  ! 

**  As  to  the  question,  I  think  we  are  now  at  dead  ebb  in 
the  country,  and  that  for  the  time  to  come  the  tide  will 
cliange,  and  in  a  century  or  so — such  is  the  genius  of 
restless  Presbyterianism — it  will  begin  to  ebb  again.  Our 
ecclesiastical  maxima  and  minima  seem  to  alternate  or 
oscillate  every  hundred  years  or  so.  I  hate — by  the 
way — above  all  things  a  Presbyterian  revolution.  There 
is  always   something   Chartist  or  fanatic  about  it.     The 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  207 

^w.s  divininn  being  stamped  upon  every  leading  eccle- 
siastic, everything  in  the  civilised  world  must  be  over- 
thrown which  stands  in  the  way  of  his  notions  being 
realised.  I  thinlv  the  present  Establishment  has  indirectly 
saved  the  monarchy." 

To  his  sister  Jane  :— 

KlEKTON  (Campsie),  Satarday  Niyht,  1843, 
"  I  am  very,  very  low.  I  have  preached  in  that  place 
to-day,  and  have  been  in  the  Manse.  Manse  and  glen  are 
sleeping  in  the  pale  moonshine.  I  am  oppressed  to  the 
earth  with  thoughts  and  feelings.  The  voices  of  the  departed 
are  ringing  in  my  ears.  I  have  suffered  more  than  I  can 
tell.     It  is  horrid  ;   dearest,  I  never  could  live  here  !" 

To  John  Mackintosh,  at  Cambridge  : — 

Loudoun  Manse,  August  30,  1843. 

"  Oh,  for  a  day  of  peace — one  of  those  peaceful  days 
Avhich  I  used  to  enjoy  when  a  boy  in  the  far  west.  Such 
days  are  gone,  fled.  I  cannot  grasp  the  sense  of  repose  I 
once  felt — that  feeling,  you  know,  which  one  has  in  a 
lonely  corry  or  by  a  burnie's  side  far  up  among  the 
mountains,  when,  far  from  the  noise  and  turmoil  of 
mortal  man,  and  the  fitful  agitations  of  this  stormy 
life,  our  souls  in  solitude  became  calm  and  serene  as  the 
blue  sky  on  which  we  gazed  as  we  lay  half  asleep  in 
body,  though  awake  in  soul,  among  the  brackens  or  the 
blooming  heather.  Could  Isaak  Walton  be  a  member  of  a 
Scotch  Presbytery  or  General  Assembly  ? — he  who  '  felt 
thankful  for  his  food  and  raiment — the  risin!?  and  settinsr 
sun — the  sinfifinGf  of  larks — and  leisure  to  q-o  a-anqlinsf '  ? 
Dear  old  soul !  *  One  of  the  lovers  of  peace  and  quiet,  and 
a  good  man,  as  indeed  most  anglers  are.'  Isaak  never 
would  have   been  a  member  of  any  committee  along  with 

and  Co.      That  is  certain.      Don't  be  angry, 

dear  John !  Do  let  me  claver  with  you,  and  smile  or  cry 
just  as  I  feel  inclined.  We  shall  slide  into  business  and 
gravity  soon  enough. 

" ....  As  to  Non-intrusion,  unless  history  lies,  avb 
have  guaranteed  to  us  now  more  than  we  ever   acted  on 


2o8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

for  a  Lundrcd  years,  and  as  much  as  the  Church,  except 
during  a  short  period,  ever  had.  We  can  reject  a 
presentee  for  any  reason  which  we  think  prevents  hira 
from  being  useful  ;  and  this  is  all  the  power  the  Church 
ever  liad.  Simj)le  dissent  was  never  considered  as  itself  a 
sufficient  reason  for  rejecting  a  presentee. 

"  As  to  spiritual  independence.  In  spite  of  all  the  Court 
of  Session  can  do,  or  has  done,  there  is  not  a  thing  in 
Cod's  Word  which  I  have  not  as  much  freedom  to  obey  in 
the  Church  as  out  of  it.  I  cannot  lay  my  hand  on  my 
heart  and  say,  '  I  leave  the  Establishment  because  in  it  I 
cannot  obey  Christ,  or  do  so  much  for  His  glory  in  it  as  out 
of  it.'  I  thank  God  I  was  saved  from  the  fearful  excitement 
into  which  many  of  my  friends  were  cast  during  May.  I 
have  been  blessed  in  my  parish. 

"  Banish  the  idea  of  my  ever  ceasing  to  love  you  as  long 
as  you  love  truth.  You  know  my  latitudinarian  principles 
in  regard  to  Church  government — old  clothes.  I  value 
each  form  in  proportion  as  it  gains  the  end  of  making  man 
more  meet  for  Heaven.  At  the  same  time  I  cannot  incur 
the  responsibility  of  weakening  the  Establishment — that 
bulwark  of  Protestantism — that  breakwater  against  the 
waves  of  democracy  and  of  revolution — that  ark  of  a 
nation's  righteousness — that  beloved  national  Zion,  lovely 
in  its  strength,  but  more  beloved  in  the  day  of  its  deso- 
lation and  danger." 

From  liis  Journal  : — 

"Dec.  3,  1843,  Sahhath  Night,  past  Eleven. — The  last 
communion  Sabbath  is  over  which  I  shall  ever  enjoy 
as  minister  of  this  parish.  The  congregation  is  dismissed 
■ — whither,  oh  whither  ?  How  many  shall  j^artake  of  the 
feast  above  ? 

"  I  can  hardly  describe  my  feelings.  I  felt  as  if  I  had 
been  at  the  funeral  of  a  beloved  Christian  friend,  where  I 
ha.l  expei'ienced  deep  and  unfeigned  sorrow,  but  mingled 
with  much  to  comfort  and  cheer. 

"  I  thank  a  gracious  (Jod  for  the  support  He  has  given. 
And  though  I  wept  sore  and  had  a  severe  day,  I  did  not 


THE  DISRUPTION  CONTROVERSY.  209 

repent  of  the  choice  I  had  made.  Dear,  dear  Londouu 
has  been  an  oasis  during  these  five  years.  But  '  I  am  a 
stranger  and  a  sojourner,  as  all  my  fathers  were,'  and  I  only 
pray  God  that  my  vows  made  this  day  may  be  performed, 
that  my  sins  may  be  forgiven,  and  that  I  may  ever  retain 
a  lively  sense  of  the  mercies  I  have  received. 

"  There  is  a  Church  here,  by  the  grace  of  God.  Oh, 
that  God  may  keep  it  by  His  power,  and  send  a  pastor 
according  to  His  miiid  to  feed  it. 

"Dec.  16^/i,  Sabhath  night,  eleven. — This  has  been  a 
solemn,  yet  a  calm,  peaceful,  and  I  hope  a  profitable  day 
for  myself  and  the  people.  My  last  Sabbath  in  Loudoun 
as  its  minister !  What  a  thing  it  is  to  write  the  last  leaf 
of  the  book  of  my  ministry,  that  has  been  open  for  nearly 
six  years  ! 

"  The  parting  with  my  evening  congregation  quite  over- 
came me.  I  had  a  good  greet  in  the  pulpit  when  they 
were  all  going  out,  and  I  hope  my  prayers  for  forgiveness 
and  acceptance  were  heard  and  answered. 

"  The  coming  home  at  night  with  dear  Jane  (beloved 
companion — more  than  sister — of  all  my  sunshine  and 
shade)  was  the  most  affecting  of  all.  The  night  was  a 
dusky  moonlight.  About  a  hundred  Sabbath-school 
children  had  collected  round  the  church  gate,  surrounded 
by  groups  of  women,  and  all  so  sad  and  sorrowful.  As  we 
came  along,  some  one  met  us  every  twenty  yards  who  was 
watching  for  us  ;  and  I  shall  never  forget  those  suppressed 
sobs  and  clutchings  of  the  hand,  and  deep  and  earnest 
'  God  bless  you  ! '     '  God  be  with  j^ou  ! ' 

"  How  many  thoughts  press  upon  me  !  The  sins  of  the 
past.  Thou  kno west !  The  mercy  and  love  of  God  The 
singular  grace  shown  to  me  at  this  time.  The  good 
effected  by  me — by  such  a  poor,  vile,  sinful  worm.  The 
gratitude  of  my  people  for  the  little  I  have  done.  The 
fear  and  trembling  in  entering  on  a  new  field  of  labour  ; 
the  awful  passing  of  time  ;  the  coming  Judgment ! 

"jDec.  IStJi. — The  last  night  in  my  study  in  my  dear 
Manse  of  Loudoun,  the  scene  of  so  many  anxieties  and 
communings — of  sweet  intercourse,  of  study,  of  sinful  and 
unprofitable  thought;:-'  ! 

VOT,   I.  p 


*io  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  I  have  ]ia<l  three  days  of  the  most  deeply  sok^mn 
and  anxious  scenes  I  have  ever  Avitnessed  in  tliis  world  ! 
Oh,  what  overwhelming  gratitude  and  affection  !  Let  nie 
never,  never,  never,  0  God,  forget  what  I  have  seen  and 
heard  ! 

"  I  have  done  good — more  than  I  knew  of.  ^lay  the 
Lord  advance  it,  and  bless  the  seed  ;  may  He  keep  the 
beloved  young  Christian  communicants,  the  rising  Church. 
The  Good  Shei)herd  is  always  with  them,  and  they  will  he 
fed  as  He  pleases." 


CHAPTEE  IX. 

DALKEITH,    DECEMBEE,    1843 JUNE,    1845. 

THE  town  of  Dalkeith,  which  formed  by  far  the 
most  important  part  of  his  new  parish,  had  then 
a  population  of  5,000.  Its  principal  streets  are  chiefly 
occupied  by  prosperous  shops  and  the  houses  of  well- 
to-do  tradesmen ;  but  the  '  wynds '  behind  these,  and 
the  miserable  '  closes  '  which  here  and  there  open 
from  them,  consist  mainly  of  the  dens  of  as  miserable 
a  class  as  can  be  found  in  the  purlieus  of  Edinburgh 
or  Glasgow.  There  were  well-farmed  lands  in  the 
country  district  of  the  parish,  and  one  or  two 
collieries  with  the  usual  type  of  mining  village 
attached  to  them.  There  were  in  the  town  numerous 
churches  belonging  to  various  denominations,  from  the 
Episcopal  chapel  to  the  representatives  of  the  chief 
forms  of  Presbyterian  dissent.  But  still  the  charge 
which  devolved  upon  the  parish  minister  was  a  heavy 
one.  Two  churches  belonged  to  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land, but  only  one  of  these  was  then  open  for  worship  ; 
and  the  parish,  which  has  since  been  divided,  was 
of  great  extent.  The  old  parish  church,  now  beau- 
tifully restored,  but  at  that  time  choked  with  galleries, 
rising  tier  above  tier  behind  and  around  the  pulpit, 

p  2 


ai2  LTFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

was  a  curious  example  of  Scotch  vandalism.  There 
was,  however,  something  of  the  picturesque  in  the 
confused  cramming  of  these  '  lofts '  into  every  nook 
and  corner,  and  bearing  quaint  shields,  devices,  and 
texts  emblazoned  in  front  of  the  seats  allotted  to  dif- 
ferent guilds.  The  Weavers  reminded  the  congrega- 
tion of  how  life  was  i)assing  '  swiftly  as  the  weaver's 
shuttle,'  and  the  Hammermen  of  how  the  Word  of 
God  smote  the  rocky  heart  in  pieces. 

The  characteristics  of  his  new  charge  were  very 
different  from  those  of  Loudoun.  lie  was  aided  and 
encouraged  in  his  work  in  Dalkeith  by  many  in  every 
rank  of  life,  and  he  formed  life-long  friendships  with 
families  remarkable  at  once  for  their  culture  and  reli- 
gious Avarmth.  But  the  working  men  of  Dalkeith  did 
not  show  the  keen  intellectual  interest  in  public  ques- 
tions evinced  by  the  weavers  of  ISTewmilns  and  Darvel, 
nor  were  they  possessed  of  their  intellectual  enthusiasm 
and  love  of  books.  The  prevailing  tone  of  mind  was 
solid,  dull,  and  prosaic.  There  was,  besides,  a  stratum 
of  society  low  enough  to  be  appalling.  The  very 
names  of  some  of  the  '  Yennels  '  in  the  town, — '  Little 
Dublin,'  and  the  like, — indicated  the  character  of  their 
inhabitants.  In  such  haunts  there  was  to  be  found 
an  amount  of  poverty,  ignorance,  and  squalor,  easy  to 
reach  so  long  as  the  question  was  one  of  almsgiving, 
but  which  it  ajipeared  almost  impossible  to  reform. 

Yet  the  missionary  labour  among  the  lapsed  classes 
of  Dalkeith,  on  Avhich  he  now  entered,  formed  use!ul 
trainin"'  for  his  future  work  in  (Uasij-ow.  In  Dalkeith 
he  made  his  first  efforts  in  the  direction  of  that  con- 
gregational   organization,    which     was    subsequently 


DALKEITH,  DFX  EMBER,   1%^1—JUNE,   1845.      213 

developed  with  such  success  in  the  Barony.  He  held 
special  week-day  meetings  to  impart  information  to 
his  people  respecting  missionary  enterprise  at  home 
and  abroad,  and  established  associations  for  the  sj^ste- 
matic  collection  of  funds  in  support  of  the  work  of 
the  Church.  He  also  sought  to  utilise  the  life  and 
zeal  of  the  communicants  by  giving  them  direct  labour 
among  their  poor  and  ignorant  neighbours.  He  per- 
sonally visited  both  rich  and  poor,  and  opened  mission 
stations  in  three  different  localities,  where  regular 
services  were  held  on  Sundays,  and  sewing  and  evening 
classes  were  taught  during  the  week.  He  formed 
a  loan-fund  to  help  those  who  were  anxious  to  help 
themselves,  and  although  often  disappointed,  yet  ex- 
perience, on  the  whole,  confirmed  his  belief  as  to  the 
benefit  of  frankly  trusting  working-men  with  means 
for  providing  for  themselves  better  houses  and  better 
clothes.  Drunkenness  was,  as  usual,  the  root-evil  of 
most  of  the  misery,  and  he  strained  every  effort  to 
grapple  with  its  power.  He  did  not  join  any  temper- 
ance society,  but  in  order  to  help  those  he  was  trying 
to  reform,  he  entered  with  them,  for  a  considerable 
period,  into  a  compact  of  total  abstinence.  The  re- 
sults of  these  experiences  he  afterwards  gave  to  the 
public  in  a  tract  entitled  "  A  Plea  for  Temperance." 

The  seat  of  the  noble  family  of  Buccleuch  is  neai 
the  town  of  Dalkeith,  and  the  town  in  many  ways 
depends  on  the  Palace.  The  gates  of  the  Park  stand 
at  the  end  of  the  Main  Street,  and  lead  into  a  wide 
demesne,  affording  to  many  families  unlimited  walks 
through  forests  of  oak  and  beech,  stretching  for  several 
thousand  acres  along  the  picturesque  banks  of  the 


214  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Esk.  Few  noblemen  realise  more  fully  than  llio 
Duke  of  Bueclcucli  the  responsibilities  attuclicd  to 
property,  or  are  more  anxious  to  discliarge  faithfully 
the  duties  of  their  high  station.  Ilis  generosity,  his 
chivalrous  honour  and  lofty  tone  of  mind  endear  him 
personally  to  all  Scotchmen.  Yet,  even  with  so 
favourable  an  example,  Norman  Macleod  perceived 
the  grave  practical  evils  attending  that  alienation  of 
the  nobility  and  gentry  of  Scotland  from  the  national 
religion  which  has  become  of  late  years  so  preva- 
lent. The  causes  that  have  mainly  produced  this 
result  are  easily  discovered.  It  is  natural  that  among 
men  educated  in  England,  and  accustomed  to  the 
liturgy  of  her  venerable  Church,  many  should  find 
the  bald  simplicity  and  extempore  prayers  of  the 
Church  of  Scotland  distasteful.  The  forms  of  worship 
which  are  so  dear  to  the  mass  of  the  people,  are  un- 
edifying  to  them.  Nor  is  it  to  be  wondered  at  if 
the  cheap  and  ugly  barns,  which  the  heritors  of  Scot- 
land have  frequently  erected  as  parish  churches,  should 
so  offend  the  tastes  of  these  heritors  themselves  as  to 
drive  them  away  from  the  ungainly  walls.  The  eccle- 
siastical disputes  too,  which  have  recently  torn  Scot- 
land asunder,  have  perhaps  repelled  not  a  few,  and 
made  them  seek  the  peaceful  retirement  of  a  commu- 
nion which  has  not  been  identified  for  centuries  with 
any  national  movement.  Ilowever  this  may  be,  the 
great  Earls  and  Barons  who  used,  by  thinr  presence, 
to  give  an  importance  to  the  deliberations  of  the  General 
Assembly  scarcely  second  to  that  of  the  debates  of 
Parliament,  have  now  few  representatives  on  \\qv 
benches,  so  that  those  of  the  clergy  wlio  liave  struggled 


DALKEITH,  DECEMBER,   \%^i—JUNE,   1845.      215 

Tinder  many  difficulties  to  increase  the  usefulness,  ele- 
vate the  tone,  and  improve  the  services  of  the  Church, 
have  been  left  without  that  support  from  the  higher 
classes  to  which  they  naturally  deem  themselves 
entitled.  And  Norman  Macleod  deplored  the  division 
which  had  grown  up  between  the  nobility  and  the 
people  for  reasons  besides  those  which  affect  the 
stability  of  the  national  Church.  He  saw  that  what 
absenteeism  was  doing  in  Ireland  in  subverting  the 
loyalty  of  the  masses  was,  in  a  smaller  degree,  yet 
unmistakeably,  being  accomplished  in  Scotland.  'The 
aristocracy  do  not  know  what  they  are  doing,'  he  used 
frequently  to  say ;  '  they  are  making  themselves  the 
most  powerful  instruments  for  advancing  democracy 
and  of  ruining  the  influence  of  their  own  order.'  He 
felt,  with  more  than  his  usual  warmth,  that  those 
loyal  attachments  which  spring  up  when  common 
sympathies  and  associations  unite  class  with  class,  and 
which  are  so  much  calculated  to  sweeten  the  atmo- 
sphere of  social  and  political  life,  are  severely  checked, 
when  those  who  ought  to  be  leaders  in  all  that  affects 
the  deeper  life  of  the  people,  live  as  foreigners  and 
aliens,  and  by  refusing  to  worship  with  their  Presby- 
terian countrymen,  throw  discredit,  not  merely  on  the 
National  Church,  but  on  the  national  faith.  Pecuniary 
or  political  support,  however  largely  accorded,  cannot 
counterbalance  such  personal  alienation. 

From  the  proximity  of  Dalkeith  to  Edinburgh  he 
was  able  to  study  the  working  of  the  committees 
entrusted  with  the  control  of  the  various  agencies  of 
the  Church,  and  to  lend  his  aid  in  reconstructing 
her   missions.      The    impressions   produced   by   this 


2i6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

experience  were  not  encouraj2;inf^,  fur  while  he  enter- 
tained a  profound  personal  respect  for  the  gocjd  men 
who  guided  the  business  of  the  Church,  he  groaned 
aloud  over  the  want  of  power  and  enthusiasm.  lie 
soon  learned  that  there  were  causes  for  the  slowness 
of  progress  lying  deeper  than  faults  of  management, 
and  his  lamentations  passed  from  the  committees  in 
Edinburgh  to  the  indifference  of  many  in  the  ministry, 
and  of  the  Church  at  large.  Morning,  noon,  and  night 
his  thoughts  turned  towards  the  revival  of  the  zeal  and 
the  development  of  the  resources  of  the  Church.  "  I 
am  low — low  about  the  old  machine — no  men,  no 
guides,  no  lighthouses,  no  moulding  master-spirit." 
Consumed  with  anxieties,  he  was  glad  when  the 
opportunity  was  offered  of  making  himself  useful  in 
Church  business.  The  first  work  assigned  to  him,  as 
well  as  the  last,  was  in  connection  with  the  India  Mis- 
sion. He  was  sent  in  1844  to  the  north  of  Scotland 
along  with  Mr.  Herdman*  to  organize  associations 
for  the  promotion  of  female  education  in  Ilindostan.    • 


To  his  sister  Jane  : — 

Dalkeith,  Friday,  December  15,  1843. 

"Well,  it  is  all  over! — I  am  now  minister  of  Dalkeith  ; 
and  may  God  in  His  mercy  grant  that  it  may  be  all  for 
His  own  glory  !  I  received  a  most  hearty  welcome,  and 
was  rejoiced  to  get  hold  of  not  a  few  hard,  horny  fists, 
and  also  the  trembling  hands  of  some  old  women.  There 
is  work  for  me  here,  I  thought,  and  some  usefulness 
yet  by  God's  grace." 

*  Now   tho  Rov.  Dr.  Ilorclman,    of  Molroso,    who   was,   in    1872, 
appointed  his  successor  in  the  unmagement  of  the  Indian  missicn. 


DALKEITH,  DECEMBER,   \%^i^JUNE,   18+5       217 

From  his  JoURNAi  : — 

Dalkeith,  Decemher  16,  1843. 

"  I  was  yesterday  inducted  into  my  new  cliarge.  Another 
change — another  great  waterfall  in  the  stream  of  time. 

"  I  am  weary  of  controversy  and  strife,  and  I  shall 
devote  my  days  and  life  to  produce  unity  and  peace 
among  all  who  love  Christ.  I  pray  that  God  may  make 
me  more  useful  and  holier  now  than  I  have  ever  been 
before,  that  I  ma}^  be  the  means  of  saving  others." 

"  Dec.  2>lst,  Sabbath. — The  first  Sabbath  in  my  new 
23arish  and  last  night  of  the  year.  In  an  hour,  forty- 
three  with  its  solemn  changes  will  have  passed,  and  the 
unknown  forty-four  have  begun.  The  grate  before  which 
I  sit  was  in  Campbeltown  ;  I  was  toasted  before  it  the 
night  I  was  born.  0  time !  O  changes !  My  head 
aches ! " 

August  0,  1844. 

"  I  have  been  very  busy  ;  my  catechism"'''  will  be  out 
this  week,  and  will  be  only  three-halfpence  ;  it  is,  I  think, 
simple  and  good.  I  am  very  anxious  to  write  a  tract 
to  leave  in  sick-rooms,  both  for  the  use  of  the  sick  and, 
what  I  think  is  much  wanted,  for  the  use  of  those  around 
the  sick  who  may  wish  to  be  of  service  to  them,  but  who 
hardly  know  what  to  do.  I  would  point  out  passages  of 
scripture  for  them  to  read,  and  give  short  comments  upon 
these  passages  and  a  few  simple  prayers." 

To  his  sister  Jane  : — 

IirVEENESS,  August,  1844. 
"  I  feel  that  in  all  the  congregations  I  have  addressed, 
and  in  all  the  meetings,  there  is  little — very  little  real  life  ! 
A  great  amount  of  coldness;  at  least,  I  think  so.  To 
form  Missionary  Associations  is  like  giving  good  spectacles 
to  those  whose  eyes  are  nearly  out ;  they  will  not  cure  the 
disease.     The    '  eye-salve '    must    first    be    applied   before 

•  A  Catechism  for  Churchtiien,  on  the  Doctrine  of  the  Headshii^  of 
Christ,  which  he  published  after  the  "  Cracks  about  the  Kirk." 


21 8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

much  good  can  l)e  done  !  lionco,  wliut  we  need  is  preach- 
'wv^  the  rrospel.  Tliis  is  an  apparent  truism  ;  but,  alas  ! 
truisms  are  what  people  attend  to  least.  On  Tuesday 
I  went  to  Elgin.  The  weather  this  week  was  magnificent ; 
the  air  clear  and  bracing  ;  the  Moray  Firth  '  gleaming  like 
a  silver  shield  ;'  the  great  line  of  precij^ice  of  old  red 
sandstone,  which  forms  a  rocky  wall  to  Caithness,  all  clear 
and  well-defined.  Held  our  meeting  at  one  ;  al)out  fifty 
ladies  present,  and  several  of  the  clergy.  Formed  the 
Association.  Sermon  at  night  tolerably  well  attended. 
Saw  Patrick  Duff's  fossils  from  the  old  red  ;  beautiful, 
very  beautiful.  Fish  Avith  the  scales  glittering  as  if  the 
fish  were  caught  yesterday. 

"  Next  day  found  the  coach  full.  A  fair  in  Forres. 
Got  a  lift  in  a  Free  Churchman's  gig.  Had  much  talk 
Avith  him,  and  could  not  blame  the  man  ;  but  blamed 
the  clergy,  old  and  new.  Reached  Nairn  at  twelv(\ 
John  Mackintosh  came  down  to  the  inn.  He  is  mad 
about  Germany  and  the  Germans ;  he  e\'en  smoked. 
Dined  at  Geddes,  after  forming  an  Association.  Tlun-s- 
day  was  a  glorious  day.  John  and  I  drove  ofif  by  the 
coach  to  Inverness.  Had  a  good  meeting.  Our  mission 
is  now  ncarlj''  over.  I  am  very  thankful  I  have  come  ; 
thankful  for  the  encouragement  given  by  the  clergy  and 
the  people,  and  thankful  for  having  been  enabled  to  preach 
the  truth." 

To  John  Mackintosh  : — 

Dalketth,  Odnler,  1844. 

"  Geddes  is  now  one  of  the  bright  points  in  the  world 
which  lies  in  darkness,  to  which  my  spirit  will  often 
turn  for  light ;  but  not  your  intellectual  light,  though 
of  that  there  is  abundance,  but  heart-light.  I  am  every 
day  hating  intellect  more  anil  more.  It  is  the  mere 
gleaming  of  a  glacier — clear,  cold,  chilly,  though  magni- 
ficent ;  and  then '  Come,  no  more  of  this,  an'  thou 

lovest  me,  Hal.'  I  detest  essay  letters ;  but  I  love  a 
smoke,  and  I  love  thee,  dear  Ji>lni,  and  thy  house,  and 
even  Ben  Wyvis,  and  all  the  happy  group  that  showed 
it   to    me ;    and    I   love   all    that    loves   me    d*^t\vu   U)   my 


I 


DALKEITH,  DECEMBER,    lUi—JUNE,    1845.     219 

devoted  cat ;  and  when  any  do  not  love  me,  I  pity  them 
for  their  wanting  so  large  an  object  for  tlieir  affections  ; 
and  so  I  wish,  above  all  things,  to  bear  al)oiit  with  me 
a  heart  which  I  would  not  have  shut  by  sin  or  by 
vanity,  and  always  open,  dear  John,  to  thee.  Well,  I 
had  such  a  day  and  night  with  Shairp !  I  went  '  to 
Houstoun.  We  talked — and  you  know  my  powers  in 
that  sort  of  wordy  drizzle — we  talked  the  moon  down. 
We  talked  through  the  garden,  and  along  the  road,  and 
up  the  avenue,  and  up  the  stair,  and  in  the  drawing- 
room,  and  during  music,  and  during  dinner,  and  during 
night,  and,  I  believe,  during  sleep  ;  certainly  during  all 
next  morning,  and  even  when  one  hundred  yards  asunder, 
he  being  on  the  canal  bank,  and  I  in  the  canal  boat.' 
What  a  dear,  noble  soul  Shairp  is  !  I  do  love  him. 
Would  that  our  Church  had  a  few  like  him.  We  want 
broad-minded,  meditative  men.  We  want  guides,  we 
want  reality,  we  want  souls  who  will  do  and  act  before 
God  ;  who  would  have  that  disposition  in  building  up  the 
spiritual  Church,  which  the  reverential  Middle  Age  masons 
had  when  elaborately  carving  some  graven  imagery  or 
quaint  device,  unseen  by  man's  eye,  on  the  fretted  roof 
of  a  cathedral — they  worked  on  God's  house,  and  before 
God!" 


To  the  Same  : — 

Dalkeith,  Odoher,  1844,  half-past  nine  a.m. 

"'There  is   poetry  in  everything.'       True,  quite  true, 

Emerson — thou  true  man,  poet  of  the  backwoods  !      But 

there  is  not  poetry  in  a  fishwife,  surely  ?      Surelv  there  is  • 

lots  of  it.      Her  creel  has  more  than  all  Dugald   Moore's 

tomes.      Why   there  was    one — I  mean    a    fishwife this 

moment  in  the  lobby.  She  had  a  hooked  nose.  It  seemed 
to  be  the  type,  nay  the  ancestor,  of  a  cod-hook.  Her 
mouth  was  a  skate  or  turbot  humanised  ;  her  teeth,  selected 
from  the  finest  oyster  pearl  ;  her  eyes,  whelks  with  the 
bonnets  on — bait  for  odd  fish  on  sea  or  land  ;  her  hands 
and  fingers  in  redness  and  toughness  rivalled  the  crab, 
b-irring  him  of  tlie  Zodiac.      Yet  she  was  all  poetry.      I 


220  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

had  been  fogging,  reading  and  writing  since  G  a  m. 
(on  honour  !) — had  dived  into  Owen,  was  dnnvned  in 
Edwards,  and  wrecked  on  Newman — my  brain  was 
wearied,  when  suddenly  I  heard  the  sound  of  'Fhikes!' 
followed  by  '  Had — dies  !'  (a  name  to  which  Haidee  was  as 
l^rose).  I  descended  and  gazed  into  the  mysterious  creel, 
and  then  came  a  gush  of  sunlight  upon  my  spirit — visions 
of  sunny  mornings  with  winding  shores,  and  clean,  sandy, 
pearlj'  beaches,  and  rippling  waves  glancing  and  glittering 
over  white  shells  and  polished  stones,  and  breezy  head- 
lands ;  and  fishing-boats  moving  like  shadows  onward  from 
the  great  deep  ;  and  lobsters,  and  crabs,  and  spoutfish,  and 
oysters,  crawling,  and  chirj)ing,  and  spouting  out  sea 
water,  the  old  '  ocean  gleaming  like  a  silver  shield.'  The 
fishwife  was  a  Claude  Lorraine  ;  her  presence  painted  what 
did  my  soul  good,  and  as  her  reward  I  gave  her  what  I'll 
wager  never  during  her  life  had  been  given  her  before — 
all  that  she  asked  for  her  fish  !  And  why,  you  ask,  have 
I  sat  down  to  write  to  you,  beloved  John,  all  this — to 
spend  a  sheet  of  paper,  to  pay  one  penny,  to  abuse  ten 
tickings  of  my  watch  to  write  myself,  like  Dogberry,  an 
ass  ?  Why  ?  '  Nature,'  quoth  d'Alembert,  '  puts  ques- 
tions which  Nature  cannot  answer.'  And  shall  I  beat 
Nature,  and  be  able  to  answer  questions  put  to  me  by 
John — Nature's  own  child  ?  Be  silent,  and  let  neither  of 
us  shame  our  parent.  Modesty  forbids  me  to  attempt 
any  solution  of  thy  question,  dear  John.  Now  for  work. 
My  j)ipe  is  out !" 


To  Ills  sister  Jane  : — 

Dalkeith,  1844. 
"  I  have  been  horribly  busy.  As  for  next  week,  I  can- 
not see  my  way  to  the  end  of  it.  I  am  to  be  at  the  top 
of  my  speed,  and  no  mistake.  I  have  got  a  beautiful 
third  preaehing-house  m  a  close,  so  that  I  have  the  three 
best  points  in  the  town  occupied,  and  I  will  clear  the  way 
for  a  missionary.  I  am  going  to  develope  one  of  my 
theories  regarding  the  bt>st  nit'tluxl  of  teaching  the  lowtT 
orders,  by  getting  pictures  of  the  life  of  Christ,  the  Lord's 


1 


DALKEITH,  DECEMBER,   \%j,i—/UNE,   1845.      221 

Prayer,  and  Ten  Commandments  printed  in  large  type, 
and  hung  up  on  the  walls.  I  have  more  faith  in  the 
senses  than  most  Presbyterians. 

"  Need  I  assure  E of  the  impossibility  of  my  saying 

anything  like  what  is  reported  of  me  !  No — I  said  the 
lightings  of  '  all  sects  and  parties  Avere  disgusting"  infidels 
even,'  and  so  prejudicing  Christianity  in  their  minds. 

"  I  am  very  jolly  because  very  busy.  Breakftxst  on  bread- 
and-milk  every  morning  at  eight ;  dine  at  two  jollily." 

Letter  to  the  late  Sir  John  Campbell,  of  Kildulloig,  ou  the  birth  of  a 
sou  aud  heir. 


"  Offi.cer  of  the  Watch.  The  commodore  is  signalling,  sir. 

'*  Captain.   What  has  she  got  up  ? 

"  Officer.   No.  1,  sir.      '  An  heir  apparent  is  born.' 

"  Ccvptain.  Glorious  news  !  All  hands  on  deck.  Bend 
un  your  flags.  Stand  by  your  halyards,  Load  your 
guns  !     All  ready  fore  and  aft  ? 

"  All  ready,  sir. 

"  Hoist  and  fire  away  ! 

"  Three  cheers  ! ! ! 

"  Load.      Fire  !     Three  cheers  ! ! ! 

"  Load  again.      Fire  ! 

"  Three  tremendous  cheers  ! !  ! 

"  For  the  Laird  of  Kildalloig  ! 

"  It  is  impossible  to  do  justice  to  the  sensation  which 
n^as  created  in  every  part  of  the  ship.  The  vessel  her- 
self made  one  of  her  best  hows,  and  for  once  ceased  to 
look  stern.  The  sails,  thouGfh  sufferinsf  much  from  the 
hiyht  of  a  rope,  for  which  the  doctor  had  stuck  on 
them  a  number  of  leeches  and  recommended  wet  sheets, 
nsvertheless    'looked   swell'    aud    much    pleased    as    the 


222 


LIFE  OF  NORMA X  MACLEOD. 


lop  f/aUants  said  sweet  things  into  their  lee  earing. 
The  royals,  tliongh  rather  lii,^-h  and  coini)laiiiing  of  tlie 
truck  system,  waved  their  caps.  The 
chain-cai>le  sung  '  Okl  King  Coil,' 
while  the  best-bower  cried  encore  ! 
fanehor).  The  capstan  began  to 
make  love  to  the  windlass,  who  was 
thought  to  be  a  great  catch,  but  who 
preferred  the  caboose  on  account  of 
his  coppers.  The  boatswain  took  the  ship  round  the  luaist, 
but  got  it  pitched  into  him  for  his  impertinence.  He  said 
it  was  all  friendship.     The  binnacle  was  out  of  his  wits 


with  joy — quite  non-conipass.  The  wheel  never  spohe ; 
he  had  more  conning  than  any  in  the  ship,  and  was  afraid 
of  being  put  dcnvn,  or  getting  hard  up.  The  cuddy  gave 
a  fearful  bray.     The  cat-of-nine-tails  gave  a  mew  which 

was  heard  a  mile  off,  and 
scampered  off  to  the  best- 
bower,  which  was  embracing 
the  cat-head  and  sharing  its 
stock  with  it.  The  life-buoy 
roused  up  the  dead  lights, 
who  rushed  and  wakened  the 
dead  eyes,  who  began  to  weep 
shrouds   changed    into   wedding    gar- 


tears  of  joy.      The 


ments.      The  two  davits  sajd  they  would,  out  of  compli- 


DALKEITH,  DECEMBER,    18+?— /^^V/T,    1845.      223 


e   two   Joltns. 


moiit  to  the  laivJ,   call   tlicinselves  after    tli 

The  companion  got  so  in  love 

Avith   marriag-e    that    he    swore 

ho  would  not  be  cheated  by  a 

mere    name,    but    get    another 

companion  as  soon  as  possible. 

The  long-boat  sighed  for  a  punt, 

and  began  to  pay  his  addresses 

to  the  cutter.     The  launch   got 

so  jealous   that  he   kicked   the 

bucket ;  while  the  siuab  declared 

he  would  turn  cleanly,  and  try 

and  earn  a  good  character  so  as 

to   get  spliced   to  a  holy-stone. 

The  guns  otfered  their  services  to  all  hands,  and  promised 


that    they   would   marry  all    and   sundry  can{n)onically, 

and   each  give  a  hall   on    the 

occasion.    The  hlock-heads  alone 

were  confused,  but  even    they 

said  they  would  contribute  their 

sheaves.      The  very   man-holes 

spoke  lovingly  of  the  fair  sex  ; 

and  the  false  keel  for  once  spoke 

truth,  saying  he  never  saw  such    I 

fun,  but  that  he   would  be  at 

the  bottom  of  all  this  mystery. 


"4 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


"  Wliat  tlio  eff(?cts  of  all  this  might  have  bi^cn  no  ono 
can  tull  if  all  the  above  marriages  had  taken  place  ;  but 

just     as    all     parties     Avere 
ready     for     being      spliced 
(the   viarHn(/-Hpikes   acting 
as    curates),    it  was    found 
every  gun  was  deep  in  j^ort. 
But    in    the   meantime    the 
captain    summoned    all    on 
deck  and  gave  the  following  short  but  neat  speech  : — 
"  '  ^ly  men, — Fill  your   glasses  !      Drink   a   bumper  to 
the  health  of  the  young  Laird  of  Kildalloig. 
May  he  swim  for  many  a  long  year  over 
the   stormy    ocean  on   which  he  has  been 
launched.      ]\Iay  neither  his  provisions  nor 
cloth    ever  fail   him.       ]\Iay    he    ever    be 
steered  by  the  helm  of  conscience,  and  go 
by  the  chart  of  duty  and   the  compass  of 
truth  ;  and  ma}'^  every  breeze    that  blows 
and  every  sea  that  dashes  carry  him  nearer 
a  good  haven  ! ' 
"  Hurrah !" 


To  his  Mother  : — 

Dalkeith,  Sunday,  1845. 

"  After  working  very  hard  during  the  week,  I  rose  to- 
day at  half-past  six,  studied  till  nine,  taught  my  school 
till  eleven,  preached  forenoon  and  afternoon  long  sermons, 
had  baptisms,  slept  for  an  hour,  preached  for  an  hour  to 
fifty  outcasts  in  the  wynd,  was  my  own  precentor  and  clerk, 
and  here  I  am  as  fresh  as  a  lark — a  pulse  going  like  a 
chronometer,  and  a  head  calm,  and  clear  and  cool  as  a 
mountain  spring.  But  my  chief  reason  for  writing  you 
to-night  is  to  tell  you  a  story  which  has  amused  me. 

"  On  coming  home  this  evening  I  saw  a  number  of  boys 
following  and  s|)eaking  to,  and  ajiparently  teasing,  a  little 
boy  who,  with  his  hands  in  his  pockets  and  all  in  rags, 
was  creeping  along  close  by  the  wall.  lie  seemed  like  x 
tame  caged  bir.l  which  had  got  loose  and  was  pecked  at 


DALKEITH,  DECEMBER^    \^\->,—JUNE,    1845      225 


and  tormented  by  wild  birds.  His  cut  was  something 
like  tliis.  I  asked  the  boys  who  he  was.  '  Eh  !  he's  a  wee 
boy  gaun'  about  begging,  wi'out 
faither  or  mither  !'  He  did  seem 
very  wee,  poor  child — a  pretty 
boy,  only  nine  years  old.  I  found 
him  near  my  gate  and  took  him 
in.  I  asked  him  to  tell  me  the 
truth.  He  said  his  father  was 
alive — a  John  Swan,  in  Kirkaldy  ; 
that  his  '  ain  mither '  Avas  dead  ; 
that  he  had  a  stepmother ;  that 
'  a  month  and  a  week  ago  '  he  left 
them,  for  they  used  to  send  him 
to  beg,  to  drink  the  money  he 
got,  and  to  thrash  him  if  he 
brought  none  in  ;  and  that  they  sent  him  out  one  evening 
and  he  left  them.  He  got  threepence  from  a  gentleman 
and  crossed  in  the  steam-boat  to  Leith.  He  had  heard 
that  he  was  born  in  Kirkhill  near  this,  '  and  that  his 
mither  lived  there  wi'  him  when  he  was  a  bairn.'  He 
reached  a  stal)le,  and  there  he  has  been  ever  since,  beq-o-ingr 
round  the  district.  Poor  infant  !  Jessie,  my  servant,  once 
a  servant  in  some  ciiaritable  institution,  was  most  minute 
in  her  questionings  about  Kirkaldy  ;  but  his  answers  were 
all  correct  and  very  innocent.  Well,  a  few  minutes  after, 
Jessie  came  in.  '  What,'  said  I,  '  are  you  doing  with  the 
boy?'  '  Oo,  I  gied  him  his  supper,  puir  thing,  and  am 
makiug  a  shake-down  for  him  ;  and,  ye  see,  I  saw  he 
was  verra  dirty,  and  I  pit  him  in  a  tub  o'  water,  and  he's 
stannin  in't  ee'  noo  till  I  gang  ben.  That's  the  Avay  we 
used  to  do  in  the  Institution.  Eh  !  if  ye  saw  the  boys  frae 
the  Hielans  that  used  te  come  there  !  Keep  me !  I 
couldna  eat  for  a  week  after  cleannin  them  ;  and  wee 
Swan  is  just  as  bad.  I  wadna  tell  ye  hoo  dirty  he  is, 
puir  bairn  !  I  couldna  thole  tae  pit  him  tae  his  bit  bed 
yon  way.  I  cast  a'  liis  duds  outside  the  door,  and  sent 
Mary  Ann  straight  up  tae  the  factor's  for  a  sack  for  him  ; 

for  ye  see  whan  we  washed  them  in  the  Institution ' 

'Be  off,'  said  I,  'and  don't  keep  the  poor  fellow  in  the  tub 

VOL.  L  Q 


S2b  LIFE  OF  NORi\rAi\  MACLEOD. 

longer.'  I  went  in,  a  few  minutes  ago,  and  there  I  found 
him,  or  rather  saw  something  Hke  a  ghost  amongst  mist, 
Jessie  scruhlnng  at  him,  and  seeming  to  enjoy  the  work 
with  all  her  heart.     '  How  do  you  like  it  ? '      '  Fine,  fine  !  ' 

But  just  as  I  wrote  the  above  word, 
the  door  was  opened  and  in  marches 
my  poor  boy,  paraded  in  by  Jessie 
- — a  beautiful  l)oy,  clean  as  a  bead, 
but  with  nothing  on  but  a  large 
beautiful  clean  shirt,  his  hair 
combed  and  divided  ;  and  Jessie 
r~  '"  ^     gazing    on    him  Avith    admiration, 

^  ,  /  /  iiarv  Ann  in  the  background.    The 

"^  ■  ■       poor  boy  hardly  opened  his   lips, 

he  looked  round  him  in  bewilderment.  '  There  he  is,' 
said  Jessie ;  '  I  am  sure  ye' re  in  anither  Avarld  the 
night,  my  lad.  Whan  wer  ye  clean  afore  ? '  '  Three 
months  sj^ne.'  'War  ye  ever  as  clean  afore?'  'No.' 
'  What  will  ye  do  noo  ?'  'I  dinna  ken.'  '  Will  ye  gang 
awa  and  beg  the  night.'  'If  ye  like.'  'No,'  said  I,  'be 
off  to  your  bed  and  sleep.'  Poor  child,  if  his  mother  is  in 
heaven  she  will  be  pleased  ! 

"  If  charity  covers  a  multitude  of  sins,  Jessie  Wishart 
will  get  her  reward. " 

Fmm  his  Journal  : — 

''January,  1845. — Of  nothing  do  we  stand  more  in 
need  in  this  poor  country  at  this  moment  than  of  a  man 
who  knows  and  loves  the  truth,  and  who  would  have  the 
courage  to  speak  out  with  a  voice  which  would  command 
a  hearing.  I  think  we  are  in  a  forced,  cramped,  fettered, 
unnatural  state.  It  is  notorious  to  every  honest  man, 
who  will  open  but  a  corner  of  even  one  eye,  that  we  have 
received  a  tcrril)le  shock  by  the  Secession.  It  is  very 
possible  that  had  there  been  no  Secession,  the  Establish- 
ment might  have  been  in  the  end  more  irrevocably  shat- 
tered, as  an  Establishment,  by  the  High  Church  foives 
within,  than  she  is  or  can  be  by  these  same  forces  acting 
on   her  from  without.      This  is  a  '  may  be '  only  ;  but   it 


DALKEITH,   DECEMBER,    x'i^^—JUNE,    1845.     227 

is  no  'may  be,'  but  a  most  serious  fact,  that  the  with- 
drawal of  these  men  has  left  us  fearfully  weak.  In  what 
respects  ? 

"1.  Tliere  are  many  parishes  left  with  mere  skeleton 
congrt*jations.  In  some  parts  of  Sutherland  and  Ross-shire, 
the  skeleton  has  dwindled  down  to  a  bone — a  mere  fossil 

"  2.  The  best  ministers,  and  the  best  portion  of  our 
people  have  gone.  Lots  of  humbugs,  I  know,  are  among 
them  ;  but,  as  a  general  fact,  this  is  true. 

"  3.  The  '  moderate '  congregations  will  soon  make  'mode- 
rate' ministers.      The  tone  will  insens^ibly  be  lo^vered. 

"  4.  We  have  many  raw  recruits  ;  and  they  are  thinking 
more  of  the  drawing-room  paper  and  the  fiars""'  prices  than 
of  the  Church. 

"  5.  We  have  no  lieads  to  direct  us  ;  not  one  command- 
ing mind,  not  one  trumpet  voice  to  speak  to  men's  inner 
being  and  compel  them  to  hear.  There  are,  I  doubt  not, 
many  who  would  do  right  if  tl  ey  knew  what  was  right  to  do. 
Like  some  regiments  during  the  war,  we  have  gone  into 
battle  with  our  full  complemeni  of  men,  and  the  slaughter 
has  been  so  great  that  ensigns  have  come  out  majors  and 
field-officers,  with  rank  and  uniform,  but  without  talent 
or  experience. 

"But  the  Free  Church  is  as  crammed  with  error  as 
we  are,  though  of  a  different  and  less  stupid  kind. 
Vanity,  pride,  and  haughtiness,  that  would  serve  Mazarin 
or  Richelieu,  clothed  in  Quaker  garb  ;  Church  ambition 
and  zeal  and  self-sacrifice  that  compete  with  Loyola  :  and 
in  the  Highlands  specimens  of  fanaticism  which  May- 
nooth  can  alone  equal.  This  is  not  so  characteristic  of 
the  people  as  of  the  clergy,  although  it  is  met  with  among 
deacons,  and  the  clever  tailors  and  shoemakers  of  the 
party,  and  some  of  the  Jenny  Geddes  type  ;  but  many 
of  the  people  follow  them  bacause  they  somehow  think 
it  safer,  while  they  follow  their  own  kind  hearts  also, 
and  love  good  men  and  good  ministers  of  all  denomina- 
tions. 

"  I    fear  much    that    this    great    excitement,    without 

*  The  average  annual  value   of  grain  by  which,  the   stipends  of 
parish  ministers  axe  determined. 

Q  2 


2  28  J.IFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Christian  principle,  will  produce  reaction  with  sin  ;  and 
that  our  nation  Avill  get  more  wicked.  Alas !  tliis  is 
drawing  rapidly  on  in  the  Highlands.  The  Establishment 
cannot  save  that  poor  country,  for  the  mass  of  the  clergy 
arc  watir-hiutkets.  The  Free  Church  cannot  save  it,  for 
they  Jn'e  tirebrands. 

"  What  sliould  we  do  ? 

"  Not  lean  on  the  aristocracy.  They  have  but  one  esQ, 
and  it  looks  at  one  object — the  landed  interest.  If  they, 
as  a  body,  support  the  Establishment,  it  is  on  mucli  the 
same  principle  that  they  support  guano — because  it  helps 
to  make  men  pay  their  rents. 

"  Not  on  Government.  Peel  is  a  trimmer,  and  would 
for  the  time  'save  the  country.' 

"  Not  on  numbers.  Holiness  is  power.  The  poorest 
man  who  is  great  in  prayer  is,  perhaps,  a  greater  man  in 
affecting  the  destinies  of  the  world  than  the  Emperor  of 
Russia.      We  need  tpiality,  not  (piantity  ! 

"  On  missions  ?  Good  !  So  are  spectacles,  if  we  have 
eyes  ;  so  are  steam-engines,  if  they  have  steam. 

"  AVe  require  an  Inner  Work  in  the  hearts  of  clergy 
and  people.  We  need  life,  and  not  mere  action ;  the 
life  of  lif(^  and  not  life  from  galvanism.  If  we  were  right 
in  our  souls,  out  of  this  root  would  spring  the  tree  and 
fruit,  out  of  this  fountain  would  well  out  the  living  water. 
])Ut  until  we  attend  to  this,  mere  outward  action  will  but 
blind  and  deceive. 

"  The  next  two  years  will  be  years  of  severe  trial  to  the 
(>1iurch. 

"  We  want  earnest  men,  truth-loving  and  truth-speak- 
ing men,  and  so  '  having  authority,  and  not  as  the 
scribes.'  We  want  a  talented,  pious  young  Scotland  party. 
We  must  give  up  the  Church  of  the  past,  and  have  as  our 
motto  the  Church  of  the  future. 

"  The  soldering  between  the  Free  Church  and  Dissenters 
has  all  along  been  false — based  on  love  of  popularity  and 
self-interest,  and  hatred  to  the  Establishment. 

"  February  7fh. — The  spirit  of  the  ecclesiastical  move- 
ment will  never  be  known  ;  it  is  a  noxious  gas,  which, 
however,  cannot  be  fixed  in  any  material  substance   that. 


DALKEITH,   DECEMBER,   i^^^—JUNE,    1845.     229 

will  convey  it  to  posterity.  If  it  could  be  confined  like 
chlorine,  and  conveyed  like  a  bleaching  powder  to  our 
grandchildren,  it  would  bleach  their  faces  white.  You  can 
always  tell  what  a  man  says  or  does  ;  but  can  you  tell  in 
a  history  his  lowering  look,  his  fidgety  expression,  his 
sneaky  remarks,  his  infinite  littleness  and  fierceness  and 
fanaticism  which  have  made  up  three-fourths  of  the  man, 
which  have  given  a  comj^lexion  to  his  whole  character, 
which  have  annoyed  a  whole  neiglibourhood  ?  These 
things  evaporate  in  a  generation,  and  what  posterity  gets 
has  been  pickled  and  preserved  on  purpose  for  it — a  made- 
up  dish,  spiced  and  peppered  and  tasted  by  the  knowing 
hands,  tried  by  cooking  committees,  and  duly  manufactured 
for  the  next  age,  and  directed  to  be  opened  by  those  only 
who  are  ready  to  praise  the  dish  and  to  vow  that  it  is  just 
the  kind  of  thing  which  Avas  common  at  every  table  in  Scot- 
land !  And  so,  when  any  Fraser  Tytler  or  Walter  Scott, 
or  any  other  historian,  picks  up  the  debris  of  dishes,  very 
different,  but  once  found  perhaps  in  every  house — '  Oh  ! 
that  was  a  chance  meal,  an  unfortunate  repast,  a  mere 
hurried  lunch  ;  not  at  all  characteristic.  Open  our  fore- 
fathers' preserved  pots.  They  are  in  our  cupboard.  These 
are  the  specimens  of  the  true  viands.'  '  O  history,  what 
a  humbug  art  thou  !'  Once  we  leave  the  Bible,  history  is 
lu'-  bubbles  on  the  stream,  or  mountains  in  mist." 

To  Egbert  Scott  Moncrieff,  Esq.  : — 

March  11,  1845. 
"  The  Duke  has  offered  £70  a  year  to  pay  a  missionary. 
This  is  kind  and  generous,  like  himself.  But  I  have  no 
missionary  ;  and,  perhaps,  at  present,  one  is  not  much 
needed,  and  if  he  were,  I  cannot  get  a  man  Avho  is  worth 
the  money.  In  these  circumstances,  the  £70  is  of  no 
use  to  the  parish  ;  but  my  conviction  is,  that  the  half 
of  this  sum  might  be  judiciously  used  in  another  way. 
I  shall  explain  what  I  mean.  You  know  that  the  gi'and 
obstacle  in  the  way  of  filling  our  church  with  the  poorer 
classes  is  the  want  of  clothes.  This  is  the  excuse  they 
make.     In  a  great  many  cases  it   is   the   true  cause   of 


230  LIFE  OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

their  neglect  of  ordinances.  I  know  well,  that  of  the 
hiuulrods  here,  who  attend  no  place  of  wo.  ship  in  the 
world,  a  great  per  centage  would,  in  their  present  state  of 
depravity,  ahsent  themselves  from  public  worship  if  tliey 
had  all  the  clothes  that  their  bodies  could  carry.  There 
are  too  many  drunken  men  and  women  (the  worst  of  the 
two)  who  would  pawn  their  clothes,  and,  if  they  could, 
would  pawn  themselves,  for  drink.  But,  I  also  know  very 
many  who  I  honestly  believe  would  never  be  absent  one 
day  from  the  house  of  God,  if  they  had  the  means  of 
appearing  there  decently  clad.  There  are  parents  who, 
during  sickness,  have  pawned  their  clothes  for  food  to  give 
their  children  ;  and  who,  living  from  hand  to  mouth,  have 
never  been  able  to  recover  them.  There  are  others  who 
are  industrious — women  especially — who  cannot  from 
their  small  wages  earn  them.  Such  people  attend  my 
mission  stations  regularly.  They  have  imi^lored  me  to 
enable  them  to  appear  in  church.  One  asks  a  pair  of 
shoes,  another  a  pair  of  trousers,  another  a  shawl,  another 
a  gown ;  and  they  have  done  so  "with  tears.  I  have 
twenty  or  thirty  persons  in  these  circumstances  on  my 
list.  Now,  I  have  assisted  some  of  these  out  of  my  own 
pocket,  and  these  persons  are  regularly  in  church.  ^Miy 
not  employ  (until  we  get  a  missionary)  a  part  of  this  fund 
in  supplying  the  Avants  of  the  best  of  such  people  ?  You, 
perhaps,  may  think  that  I  may  be  deceived  ;  possibly,  1 
may.  But  as  I  have  been  for  some  years  constantly 
amongst  such  people,  I  am  not  easily  deceived.  And 
may  Ave  not  be  deceived  Avith  a  missionary,  and  lose  the 
£70  in  a  lump  ?  There  is  a  chance  of  being  deceiA'ed 
'.n  some  cases,  and  of  losing  a  pound  here  and  one-and- 
sixpence  there  ;  but  on  the  other  hand  there  is  a  greater 
chance  of  reclaiming  people  to  habits  of  order  and  de- 
cency, of  bringing  into  godly  habits,  parents  Avho  never 
have  been  in  church  since  they  Avere  children,  Avho  have 
never  been  at  the  sacrament,  and  Avhose  children  are  un- 
baptized.  Is  it  not  AA'orth  Avhile  to  make  the  trial  ?  Unless 
something  like  this  is  done,  my  A'isiting  of  the  parish  is 
almost  mere  sham.  I  pass  through  the  people  like  a  stick 
through   water.     They   receive   me   kindly,  and   they  are 


DALKEITH,   DECEMBER,    i^^^^—ju^rj^^    ,8^,.     2^, 

just  .IS  they  were  when  my  back  is  turned.  You  ask 
nie,  then,  what  I  want  ?  I'll  tell  you  :  I  want  a  sum  of 
money  in  my  own  hand  to  try  the  experiment  for  one 
year.  The  Duke  gives  me  £70  for  the  good  of  the  parish ; 
if  he  gets  the  good,  he  will  not  care,  I  am  sure,  how  the 
money  is  expended.  Let  me  only  have  the  half.  I  will 
give  you  an  account  of  how  I  spend  it.  I  Avill  show  you 
the  results,  and  I  am  willing  to  stake  my  stipend  that  a 
dozen  missionaries,  trudging  about  with  their  gaiters  and 
umbrellas,  and  preaching  long,  dry  sermons,  won't  do  so 
much  good  at  first  as  £35  spent  in  my  way." 

To  his  MoTHEE : — 

Dalkeith,  March,  1845. 

"  Everything  goes  on  smoothly.  I  have,  ranged  before 
me,  a  series  of  really  beautiful  coloured  lithographs  for  my 
mission  station.  We  are  taught  by  the  eye,  as  well  as  by 
the  ear.  ^  The  more  ignorant  we  are,  the  less  able  are  we 
to  form  ideas.  Children  in  years  and  children  in  know- 
ledge are  the  better  of  pictures ;  so  think  the  Papists,  who 
know  human  nature  well.  But  they  ejr,  not  in  dealing 
with  people  who  are  children  as  children  should  be  dealt 
Avith,  but  in  keeping  them  children. 

"  There  is  a  marked  change  in  the  town,  whatever  the 
reason  may  be.  The  police  sergeant  told  me  yesterday 
that  the  change  during  the  last  three  months  is  incredible. 
Instead  of  ten  a  week  in  the  lock-up  for  drunkenness, 
he  has  not  had  one  case  for  a  month  ;  while  the  streets, 
formerly  infested  with  low  characters,  are  now  as  quiet  as 
possible.  This  is  gratifying,  and  should  make  us  thank 
God  and  take  courage. 

_  "My  geological  lectures  are  over,  I  gave  the  t^velfth  last 
night ;  it  was  on  the  wisdom  of  God  as  displayed  in  the 
structure  of  the  world,  and  I  do  think  it  must  have  been 
interesting  even  to  those  who  knew  nothing  of  the  subject." 

To  his  sister  Jane  : — 

Dalkeith,  1844. 
"  I  had  a  meeting  on  Monday  last  to  petition  against 
^[ayn^)oth;   I  intimated  it  from  my  pulpit.     The  meeting 


232 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


was  good.  I  made  a  long  speech  ;  was  all  alone.  Al- 
though I  bdit've  I  am  the  first,  and,  as  fiir  as  I  know, 
mine  is  the  only  parish,  belonging  to  our  Church  that 
has  petitimed,  I  am  so  thankful  I  followed  my  own 
sense  and  did  it.  The  fact  is,  we  have  passed  through 
a  revolution,  the  most  serious  by  far  in  our  time.  Sir 
Robert  has  sapped  the  basis  of  Establishments  ;  he  has 
capsized  the  principles  of  his  party  ;  he  has  alienated  from 
him  the  confidence  of  the  country,  and  inflicted  a  sore  blow 
upon  Protestantism.  I  declare  solemnly  I  would  leave  my 
!Alanse  and  glebe  to-morrow,  if  I  could  rescind  that  terrible 
vote  for  Maynooth.  I  cannot  find  words  to  exjiress  my 
deep  conviction  of  the  infatuation  of  the  step.  And  all 
statesmen  for  it !  Not  one  man  to  form  a  Protestant 
party  ! — not  one  !     God  have  mercy  on  the  country! "  * 

Froin  his  JorRXAL: — 

"  March  27th. — The  connection  between  a  right  physical 
and  right  intellectual  and  moral  state  is  a  question  of  vast 
importance  in  connection  with  the  supremacy  and  advance- 
ment of  the  Christian  Church,  i.e.,  the  good  and  happiness 
of  man.  If  it  be  true  that  through  bad  feeding,  clothing, 
hard  work,  &c.,  there  is  a  retrogression  of  the  species,  or 
families  of  the  species,  and  vice  versa,  how  important  that 
a  country,  especially  a  Church,  should  attend  to  the  physical 
wants  of  the  people  !  I  have  heard  it  alleged  that 
criminals,  generally  speaking,  are  an  inferior  race  physically. 
Query,  how  much  has  Christianity  advanced  the  human 
race  by  stimulating  that  charity  that  '  does  good  unto  all 
men,  especially  unto  those  who  are  of  the  household  of 
faith  ?'  The  defect  of  most  systems  for  benefiting  man  has 
arisen  not  so  much  from  the  presence  of  a  bad  element, 
as  the  absence  of  a  good — from  a  minus,  not  a  plus — 
from  forgetting  that  man  is  an  intellectual,  social,  moral, 
active,  and  sentient  being,  and  that  his  well-being  is 
advanced  just  in  proportion  as  all  these  different  parts  of 
his  nature  are  gratified.     Better  drainage,  ventilation,  poor 

*  Compare  with  these  reflections  the  opinions  expressed  in  Chapter 
XIII.,  May,  ]bu4. 


DALKEITH,   DECEMBER,    x^^^—JUNE,   1845.      233 

laws,  deal  with  his  sentient  part ;  and  so  far  good.  Read- 
ing-rooms, lectures,  mechanics  institutes,  cheap  litera- 
ture, deal  with  his  intellectual,  and  are  good  too.  Amuse- 
ments, coffee-houses,  and  some  of  the  above,  deal  with 
his  social,  and  are  likewise  good.  The  axiom,  'give  the 
people  always  something  to  do,'  deals  with  his  active 
powers  ;  the  gospel  and  all  the  means  of  grace,  with  his 
moral  nature  ;  and  as  this  is  the  mainspring  of  all  he 
thinks  and  does,  it  is  the  most  important  of  all ;  but  it 
alone,  as  a  system  of  truth  separated  from  a  system  of 
action,  which  includes  all  reform,  will  not  do.  To 
j)reach  a  sermon,  and  refuse  meat  to  the  starving 
hearers,  is  mockery  ;  and  so  says  St.  James.  To  this  I 
add,  the  necessity  of  a  living,  wise  and  Christian  agency 
coming  constantly  into  contact  with  men. 

"  It  is  a  orlorious  night !  '  The  moon  doth  with  deliofht 
look  round  her,  and  the  heavens  are  bare.'  How  won- 
derful is  the  majestic  calm  of  nature!  how  awing  to  the 
spirit  this  steadfast  and  unhalting  march  of  God's  plan  in 
nature  and  providence  !  Man's  wrath  stays  it  not  ;  many 
storms  disturb  it  not.  The  stars  twinkle  as  they  did  on 
Eve  or  on  the  waters  of  the  Deluge.  How  comforting  to 
think  of  the  Mighty  Hand  which  is  guiding  all !  '  Be  still, 
and  know  that  I  am  God  ! ' 

"  December  2dth. — During  this  past  year  I  have  preached 
one  hundred  and  twenty-six  times  in  my  own  parish, 
besides  sermons  in  mission  stations.  Helped  to  found 
thirty  Missionary  Associations  for  the  support  of  Female 
Education  in  India,  in  Elgin,  Forres,  Nairn,  Inverness,  Fort 
William,  Helensburgh,  Dunoon,  Perth,  Dundee,  Kilmarnock, 
Coldstream,  Hawick,  Greenock,  and  besides  delivering 
addresses  in  Largs,  Glasgow,  Campsie,  Dalkeith,  Edin- 
burgh College,  have  written  the  '  Churchman's  Catechism,* 
(3,000  sold)." 


CHAPTEE  X. 

1845. NORTH   AMERICA. 

THE  General  Assembly  of  1845  having  determined 
to  send  a  deputation  to  British  North  America, 
to  visit  the  congregations  connected  with  the  Church 
of  Scotland  in  these  colonies,  the  late  Dr.  Simpson  of 
Kirknewton,  Dr.  John  Macleod  of  Morven,  and  Nor- 
man Macleod  of  Dalkeith,  were  appointed  deputies. 
They  accordingly  sailed  from  Liverpool  in  June,  and 
were  absent  on  this  duty  for  five  months.  The  pur- 
pose of  the  deputation  was  to  preach  to  the  many 
congregations  which  had  been  deprived  of  their 
clergy  during  the  recent  ecclesiastical  troubles,  and 
to  explain,  when  called  upon,  the  views  which  had 
determined  the  policy  of  those  who  had  remained 
by  the  Church  of  their  fathers.  They  determined 
not  to  utter  a  disrespectful  word  regarding  their  Free 
Church  brethren,  and  while  firmly  vindicating  their 
own  Church,  to  do  nothing  likely  to  interfere  with 
the  usefulness  of  any  other  Christian  body. 

Their  labour — travelling,  preaching,  and  addressing 
meetings — was  severe.  As  a  specimen  of  the  work 
which  fell  to  him  in  common  with  the  others,  he 
records    what    was    done    during    one    week.      '  On 


1 845- — NORTH  AMERICA.  235 

Friday,  I  preached  and  travelled  sixteen  miles; 
Saturday,  preached  once ;  Sunday,  preached  and  gave 
two  addi-esses  to  communicants  at  the  Lord's  Table; 
Monday,  preached  again ;  Tuesday,  travelled  thirty- 
two  miles  and  spoke  for  an  hour  and  a  half;  Wed- 
nesday, travelled  forty -three  miles  and  spoke  for  two 
hours ;  Thursday,  preached  and  travelled  twenty-five 
miles ! ' 

The  following  extracts  are  taken  from  the  letters 
he  wrote  during  his  sojourn  in  America  : — 

To  h.is  sister  Jane  : — 

On  board  the  Commodore,  going  to 
LrvERPooL,  1845. 

*'  We  had  a  happy  dinner  at  Glasgow.  Mother  sad,  until 
'  I  calmed  her  fears  and  she  was  calm.'  Don't  you  love 
your  mother  ?  What  is  she  ?  Not  a  nice  body — she  is 
too  large  in  soul  and  body  for  that.  Not  a  nice  soul — she 
has  too  much  sense  and  intelligence  for  that.  Not  a  nice 
woman — she  has  too  much  enthusiasm  and  also  piety  for 
that.  A  lady  is  not  the  word — for  my  mother's  income 
was  always  small,  good  soul ;  and  though  she  could  furnish 
ten  ladies  with  what  is  lady -like  and  keep  to  herself  what 
Avould  serve  to  adorn  a  minister's  house,  lady  is  not  the 
word.  My  mother  !  That's  it  ;  and  don't  you  love  her  ? 
I  do  ;  and  let  me  tell  you  that  in  these  days  the  fact  is 
worth  knowing. 

"  Liverpool,  Half-past  Eleven  P.  M. — The  Bell  Buoy 
struck  me  much.  As  the  waves  rise  the  bell  rings.  I 
cannot  tell  you  the  eft'ect  it  had  on  my  imagination 
when  I  first  heard  it.  The  sun  was  setting,  attended  by 
a  glorious  retinue  of  clouds.  Ships  in  full  sail  and 
pilot  boats  were  sailing  in  relief,  and  crossing  and  re- 
crossing  between  us  and  the  red  light.  I  heard  a  most 
solemn  and  touching  chime  ;  then  silence ;  and  the  ding 
dong  again  came  over  the  sea.  I  can  hardly  express  the 
str^^nge  thoughts  it  suf^ofested.     One  could  not  but  think 


2j6  LIFE  OB'  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

of  it  in^  nights  of  storm  and  darkness  ringing  its  note 
of  warning  to  the  sailor,  and  its  U(jte  of  welcome  too,  and 
perhaps  its  funeral  dirge.  It  was  so  on  the  awful  7th  of 
January,  when  the  New  York  Liner  was  shipwrecked  on 
these  banks  ;  when  the  fine  f(;llow  of  a  captain  got  de- 
ranged as  he  discovered  that  the  light-ship,  his  only  guiile, 
was  driven  from  her  moorings !  I  could  not  but  think  it 
was  alive  and  cold  and  lonely  :  that  it  had  all  the  feeling 
of  being  deserted  on  a  waste  of  waters  like  what  poor 
Vanderdecken  had,  who  hailed  every  ship,  but  no  one 
came  to  his  aid  ;  and  so  the  bell  chimed  and  chimed  for 
company,  but  it  only  proved  a  warmng  to  all  who  heard 
it  to  sail  away  !  " 

At  Sea. 

"  When  I  looked  into  Dr.  Simpson's  cabin,  I  saw  a  poor 
emaciated  man,  evidently  dying  of  decline,  in  one  of  the 
berths.  I  spoke  kindly  to  him,  and  found  he  was  an  Ameri- 
can who  had  left  Boston  for  his  health,  thinking  a  sea 
voyage  would  do  him  good.  But  he  was  now  returning 
in  a  dying  state.  In  the  evening,  the  captain  seeing 
how  ill  he  Avas,  removed  him  to  a  berth  nearer  the  air. 
I  saw  him  again  in  the  evening  and  got  into  conversa- 
tion with  him  about  the  state  of  his  soul.  He  seemed 
very  ignorant  but  teachable.  He  had  attended  a  Unitarian 
Chapel.  I  promised  to  read  with  him  and  to  come  to  him 
any  hour  he  wished  ;  gave  him  my  name  and  told  him 
I  was  a  clergy mnrn.  He  seemed  very  grateful.  He  said 
his  fjither  was  alive,  but  his  mother  was  dead  ;  and  she, 
used  to  speak  to  him  every  day  on  these  things.  Poor 
lellow  !  Perhaps  it  was  in  answer  to  her  prayers,  that  in 
his  last  hours  he  had  beside  him  those  who  spoke  to  hin\ 
the  truth. 

"Saturday  list. — Poor was  speechless  this  morn- 
ing. He  died  at  nine  o'clock.  I  am  very  thankful  that  I 
did  not  delay  speaking  to  him. 

"Sahhath  22nd. — Rose  early.  The  morning  M-as  breezy. 
The  coffin  was  covered  by  a  flag  and  placed  on  a  plank 
near  the  port.  The  sailors  who  attended  were  dressed  in 
their  white   trousers,   and   manv   of   the  passengers   were 


1845. — NORTH  AMERICA.  237 

gathered  round.  We  read  together  tlie  church  service  for 
the  burial  of  the  dead.  When  we  came  to  the  portion  of 
the  service  when  the  hody  is  committed  to  the  deep,  the 
plank  was  shoved  forward  with  the  coffin  on  it,  and  one 
end  being  elevated  the  coffin  slid  down  and  plunged  into 
the  ocean  ;  a  splash,  and  his  remains  were  con-^ealed  for 
ever  till  the  day  that  the  sea  shall  give  up  its  dead. 

"  I  read  the  Church  of  England  service  in  the  forenoon 
to  an  excellent  congregation,  and  John  preached  on  the  text 
'  How  shall  we  escape  ? '  " 

To  the  Same  :— 

"  Friday. — Saw  icebergs  for  the  first  time  in  my  life. 
The  first  time  we  sighted  them  they  were  gleaming  like  silver 
specks  on  the  horizon ;  but  their  bulk  soon  became  visible. 
Nothing  could  exceed  the  majesty  and  beauty  of  those 
masses  coming  from  some  mysterious  source,  and  floating 
silently  on  the  mighty  ocean.  We  passed  within  two  hundred 
yards  of  one.  The  side  next  the  western  waves  was  hol- 
lowed into  large  caves,  the  precipice  being  only  about  twenty 
feet  high.  The  mass  was  of  the  purest  alabaster  white  you 
can  conceive,  gleaming  and  glistening  in  the  setting  sun  ; 
the  waves  were  dashing  against  and  undermining  the 
island  ;  but  as  the  sea  rolled  up  foaming  into  these  marble 
caves,  it  was  of  the  deepest  and  purest  emerald.  The 
union  of  the  intense  green  and  pure  white  was  exquisitely 
beautiful. 

"  In  the  afternoon  the  breeze  increased,  thick  fog  rolled 
over  us.  We  were  all  solemnized  by  the  danger  of  com- 
ing thump  upon  an  iceberg,  which  all  agreed  might  take 
place,  and,  if  so,  instant  destruction  would  follow.  A 
group  of  passengers  met  round  the  capstan  under  cover, 
and  near  the  funnel  for  warmth,  for  the  air  was  piercingly 
cold,  and  every  man  seemed  to  vie  with  the  others  in  telling 
dismal  stories,  chiefly  from  his  own  history,  of  tempests 
and  shipwrecks  and  vessels  on  fire  and  destruction  by  ice- 
bergs. The  scene  in  the  saloon  was  really  striking.  One 
of  the  passengers  was  playing  the  guitar  beautifully,  and 
it  was  strange  to  look  round  the  group  listening  to  him 


238  IJFE   OF  XORMAX  MACLFOD. 

Men  from  every  part  of  Eurojie — a  inissionary  bronzed  with 
tlie  Sim  of  Iiidiii,  Protestant  clergy  and  Catliolic,  otiict-rs 
and  merchants,  all  met,  having  a  common  sympathy,  only 
to  scatter  and  never  meet  again  ;  without,  were  storm  and 
mist  and  floating  ice-islands  !  How  like  it  was  to  each  one 
of  us,  floating  on  this  mysterious  sea  of  life,  gleaming  now 
beneath  the  sun,  and  again  tossed  about  and  covered  by 
darkness  and  storm,  and  soon  to  melt  and  disappear  in  the 
unfathomable  gulf  where  all  is  still ! 

"  I  retired  to  rest  with  sober,  and  I  trust  profitable,  re- 
flections. There  was  of  course  the  feeling  of  i)0ssible 
danger  which  might  be  sudden  and  destructive.  I  com- 
mitted myself  to  the  care  of  Him  Who  holds  the  winds  in 
the  hollow  of  His  Hand.  I  read  Mith  comfort  the  108rd 
Psalm.  I  awoke,  however,  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and 
how  I  longed  for  the  morning !  How  helpless  I  felt,  and 
how  my  life  passed  before  me  like  a  panorama  ! 

"  Saturday. — You  knoAV  my  love  of  steam  engines,  and 
certainly  it  has  not  been  lessened  by  what  I  have  seen  in 
the  Acadia.  What  a  wonderful  sight  it  is  in  a  dark  and 
stormy  night  to  gaze  down  and  see  those  great  furnaces 
roaring  and  raging,  and  a  band  of  black  firemen  laughing 
and  joking  opposite  their  red-hot  throats  !  and  then  to  see 
that  majestic  engine  with  its  great  shafts  and  polished  rods 
moving  so  regularly  night  and  day,  and  driving  on  this  huge 
mass  with  irresistible  force  against  the  waves  and  storms  of 
the  Atlantic  !  If  the  work  glorifies  the  intellect  of  the 
human  workman,  Avhat  a  work  is  man  himself ! 

"  Sunday. — Having  kept  my  watch  with  Dalkeith  time, 
I  have  had  much  enjoyment  in  following  the  movements 
of  my  household  and  my  flock,  following  them  with  my 
thoughts  and  prayers  ;  and  the  belief  that  at  the  hours  of 
public  prayer  there  were  some  true  hearts  praying  for  me 
was,  very  refreshing. 

"  Monday. — Another  magnificent  day  ;  a  fine  breeze  and 
all  sail  set.  I  have  had  some  hours  of  most  entertaining 
and  deeply  interesting  conversations  :  one  hour  or  so  with 
the  bishop,  in  which  we  entered  fully  and  freely  upon  all 
the  disputed  points  in  the  Romish  Church,  another  hour 
with   Unitarians, — all  most   useful  and  instructive      The 


1845. — NORTH  AMERICA.  239 

passengers  drank  our  healths  with   three  times  three.      I 

leave  the  boat  with  regret. 

*  *  *  *  *  *  * 

"  Fictou,  Friday  Night. — This  has  been  a  truly  delight- 
ful day  in  all  respects.  We  went  to  chureh ;  it  is  a  neat  build- 
ing capable  of  holding  about  eight  hundred.  As  we  drew 
near  we  saw  the  real  out-and-out  Highland  congregation  ; 
old  men  and  women  grouped  round  ;  one  or  two  of  theni 
were  from  Mull,  and  asked  about  all  my  aunts  and  uncles. 
It  looked  like  speaking  to  people  who  had  been  dead. 
But  the  scene  in  the  church  was  most  striking.  It  was 
crammed,  and  the  crowd  stood  a  long  distance  out  from 
the  doors.  Such  a  true  Hicrhland  conQfreration  I  never 
saw,  and  when  they  all  joined  in  singing  the  Gaelic 
Psalm  how  aft'ecting  was  it !  John  preached  a  splendid 
sermon  in  Gaelic,  and  I  preached  in  English  to  the  same 
congregation. 

"  Monday. — Yesterday  is  a  day  never  to  be  forgot- 
ten ;  I  do  not  think  it  possible  to  convey  the  varied, 
solemn,  and  strange  impressions  which  were  made  upon  my 
mind.  The  weather  was  beautiful.  Many  hundreds  had 
remained  in  town  all  Saturday  night.  On  Sabbath  mornin:,' 
dozens  of  boats  were  seen  dotting  the  surface  of  the  calm 
bay,  and  pulling  from  every  part  of  the  oj^posite  shore 
towards  Pictou.  About  one  thousand  people  crossed  dur- 
ing the  forenoon.  Hundreds  on  horseback  and  on  foot, 
in  gigs,  cars,  carts,  Avere  streaming  into  town.  At  eleven 
o'clock.  Dr.  Simpson  and  I  went  to  the  church  in 
oiu'  pulpit  gowns, — I  in  my  dear  old  Loudoun  gown,  which 
has  covered  me  in  many  a  day  of  solemn  battle.  The 
church  could  not  contain  anything  like  the  congregation. 
Dr.  Simpson  preached  and  exhorted  the  first  communion 
table,  I  exhorted  other  two,  and  this  was  all,  for  the 
Ross-shire  notions  of  communion  are  prevalent  here.  I 
occupied  some  time  in  my  second  address  in  trying  to 
remove  such  sinful  and  superstitious  ideas  as  are  enter- 
tained by  many.  While  Dr.  Simpson  gave  the  concluding 
address  I  went  to  the  tent  ;*  it  was  on  a  beautiful  green 

*  The  '  tent '  is  a  species  of  movable  pulpit  used  for  open-siir 
Bcrvices  in  Scotland. 


240  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

hill  near  the  town,  overlooking  the  harbour  and  neigh- 
bouring country.  When  I  reached  it  I  beheld  the  most 
touching  and  magnificent  sight  I  ever  beheld.  Tlirre 
were  (in  addition  to  the  crowd  we  had  left  in  the  church) 
about  four  thousand  people  here  assembled!  John  had 
finished  a  noble  Gaelic  sermon.  He  was  standing  with  his 
head  bare  at  the  head  of  the  white  communion  table,  and  was 
about  to  exhort  the  communicants.  There  was  on  either 
side  space  for  the  old  elders,  and  a  mighty  mass  of  earnest 
listeners  beyond.  The  exhortation  ended,  I  entered  the 
tent  and  looked  around  ;  I  have  seen  grand  and  imposing 
sights  in  my  life,  but  this  far  surpassed  them  all.  As 
I  ffazed  on  that  table,  along  Avhich  were  slowlv  ])assed  the 
impressive  and  familiar  symbols  of  the  Body  broken  and 
lUood  shod  for  us  all  in  every  age  and  clime — as  I  saw  the 
solemn  and  reverent  attitude  of  the  communicants,  every 
head  bent  down  to  the  white  board,  and  Avatched  the  ex- 
pressions of  the  weather-beaten,  true  Highland  countenances 
around  me,  and  remembered,  as  I  looked  for  a  moment  to 
the  mighty  forests  which  swept  on  to  the  far  horizon,  that 
all  were  in  a  strange  land,  that  they  had  no  pastors  now, 
that  they  were  as  a  tlock  in  the  lonely  wilderness — as  these 
and  ten  thousand  other  thoughts  tilled  my  heart,  amidst 
the  most  awful  silence,  broken  only  by  sobs  which  came 
from  the  Lord's  Table,  can  you  wonder  that  I  hid  my 
face  and  '  lifted  up  my  voice  and  wept  ? '  Yet  how  thank- 
ful, how  deeply  thankful  was  I  to  have  been  privileged  to 
see  a  sight  here  in  connection  with  the  Church  of  Scot- 
land which  the  Highlands  of  Scotland,  even  the  Lowlands, 
could  not  afford !  Oh  that  my  father  had  been  with  us ! 
Avliat  a  welcome  he  would  have  received  !  An  address 
signed  by  tAvo  thousand  has  this  moment  been  presented 
Forty  deputies  from  the  Cliurches  came  with  it. 

"  loth. — We  reached  Gareloch,  fifteen  long  miles  off, 
about  three  o'clock  When  we  reached  the  sunnnit  of  a 
hill,  we  saw  the  church  on  the  opposite  declivity ;  rows  of 
gigs  and  horses  showed  the  people  liad  come.  I  spoke 
an  hour  and  a  half  on  tic  Headship  of  Christ.  Thank 
God!  we  said  all  the  good  we  could  of  our  opponents, 
and  nothing  bad.      While  John  was  speaking,  I  went  out 


i84S. — NORTH  AMERICA.  »4r 

to  rest  myself.  I  strolled  for  about  a  quarter  of  a  mile, 
and  stumbled  on  the  tent,  used  sometimes  in  preaching-. 
You  could  not  imagine  a  more  striking  spot  for  a  forest- 
preaching.  It  was  in  a  forest  bay.  The  tent  Avas  shaded 
by  the  trees,  which  swept  in  a  semicircle  around  it. 
Immediately  before  it  was  a  cleared  knoll,  capable  of 
accommodating  four  thousand  people,  with  stumps  of  trees 
and  large  bare  stems  rising  over  them.  I  was  told  many 
thousands  have  sat  on  that  knoll,  hearing  the  word;  and 
when  I  visited  it  in  quiet  and  silence,  and  pictured  to 
myself  the  scene  which  a  communion  Sabbath  evening 
would  present,  it  made  me  feel  how  uns|)eakably  great 
was  the  blessing  of  the  preached  gospel  in  the  wilderness 
— how  it  truly  made  it  bloom  and  blossom  as  the  rose  ! 
And  how  fearful  seemed  the  sin  of  being  a  covetous 
Church,  grudging  to  send  the  bread  of  life  to  a  poor, 
morally  starving  people  ! 

"  Wednesday,  IGth. — Rose  at  five,  and  started  to  preach 
at  Wallace,  forty-three  miles  off.  Another  gig,  with  a  lady 
and  gentleman,  accompanied  us  all  the  distance  'just  to  hear 
the  sermon  and  address  ! '  The  day  got  fearfully  hot,  about 
85°  in  the  shade;  it  has  kept  at  80°  ever  since  }  The 
drive  was  the  more  sultry  as  we  had  to  keep  through  forest 
almost  the  whole  way.  But  with  coat  and  waistcoat  off, 
blouse  and  straw  hat  on,  and  a  good  supply  of  cigars,  I  got 
on  jollily  ;  the  roads  were  so  so.  By  clenching  my  teeth, 
and  holding  on  now  and  then,  the  shocks  were  not  so 
bad.  While  the  horse  was  baitinsc,  about  twelve  miles  from 
Pictou,  I  walked  on,  gathering  strawberries,  which  are 
everywhere  in  abundance,  and  keeping  off  a  fcAV  mosquitoes 
by  smoking.  I  saw  a  log-hut  near  the  wood,  and  entered 
it.  A  man  met  me,  evidently  poor,  Avho  could  hardly  speak 
a  word  of  English  ;  yet  he  was  only  five  years  old  Avhen  he 
left  Mull !  He  was  married,  and  had  six  children.  He 
seemed  amazed  when  I  spoke  Gaelic  :  welcomed  me  to 
the  house.  But  he  no  sooner  found  out  who  I  Avas  than 
I  was  met  by  a  storm  of  exclamations  expressing  wonder 
and  delight.  He  told  me  tvA^o  of  his  children  Avere  un- 
baptized  ;  and,  as  the  gig  had  come  up,  I  left  him  Avith  the 
promise  of  returning  to  him  next  day  on  my  way  home. 

VOL.  I.  u 


242  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  We  halted  the  horses  at  an  old  fellow's  house,  who  came 
here  when  a  boy  from  Lockerbie  in  178G.  What  chantres 
had  taken  place  here  since  then  !  He  remembered  only  six 
'smokes,'  where  there  are  now  probably  forty  or  fifty  thou- 
sand— one  house  only  in  Pictou  ;  no  roads,  &c.  He  said 
he  was  driven  out  of  Isle  St.  John,  now  Prince  Edward's 
Island,  by  the  mice,  in  1813.  A  mice  plague  appeared 
in  that  year  over  all  Nova  Scotia  and  Prince  Edward's 
Island.  They  filled  the  woods  and  villages ;  they  tilled 
houses  and  crawled  over  beds,  nibbled  the  windows  of 
shops,  ate  up  crops  and  herbage  ;  they  swam  rivers  ;  they 
were  met  in  millions  dead  in  the  sea  and  lay  along  the 
shores  like  coils  of  hay!  If  a  pit  was  dug  at  night  it  was 
filled  by  morning.  Cats,  martens,  &c.,  fed  on  them  till 
they  died  from  over-gorging.  Oh  !  it  makes  me  sick  to 
think  of  it.       Yet  such  was  one  of  the  forms  in  which 

danger  and  starvation  mot  the  early  settlers. 

***** 

"Thursday,  17th. — We  soon  renched  the  poor  High- 
lander's house  where  I  was  to  baptize  the  child.  The 
Cfiors  drove  on  to  an  inn  to  bait  the  horses,  and  I 
entered  the  log-house.  I  gave  him  an  earnest  exhor- 
tation, and  baptized  both  his  children.  They  were  noat 
and  clean.  It  was  strange  to  hear  them  talk  Yankee- 
English,  and  the  father  Gaelic.  I  was  much  attecttHl 
by  this  man's  account  of  himself  He  had  much  to 
struggle  against.  He  had  lost  a  cow,  and  then  a  horso, 
and  then  a  child.  Little  wood  had  been  cleared,  and  he 
was  due  thirty  pounds  for  it.  '  But,'  he  said,  handing  me 
a  large  New  Testament,  '  that  has  been  my  sole  comfort.' 
I  was  much  struck  on  opening  it  to  find  it  a  gift  from 
'the  Duke  of  Sutherland  to  his  friends  and  clansmen  in 
America.'  What  blessings  may  not  a  few  pounds  confer 
when  thus  kindly  laid  out.  The  tears  which  streamed 
down  that  poor  man's  face  while  he  pointed  to  that  fine 
large  printinl  Testament  would  be  a  great  reward  to  the 
Duke  for  his  gifts,  had  he  only  witnessed  them  as  I  did. 
The  poor  fellow  accom})anied  me  on  the  road,  and  parted 
from  mo  with  many  prayers  and  many  tears.  It  is  this 
parting    with    in(li\iduals    and    cotigrcgations    every    day, 


1 845- — NORTH  AMERICA.  243 

never  to  meet  again,  which  makes  our  mission  so 
solemn  and  so  mingled  with  saduess.  As  a  congrega- 
tion dismisses,  you  can  say  with  almost  perfect  cer- 
tainty, 'There  they  go  ;  when  we  meet  next  it  will  he  at 

Judgment  !' 

■5'-  -:s-  *  *  * 

"  Charlotte  Town. — Stalking  up  the  town  we  met  some 
Morven  men.  The  following  conversation  amused  me  as 
exemplifying  a  strong  Churchman.  A  great  rough  fellow, 
a  teetotaler  (?),  was  the  speaker.     His  name  was  Campbell. 

"  Campbell.    '  Is  my  Uncle  Donald  alive  ? ' 

"  John.   '  No.     He  is  dead.' 

"  C.  (very  carelessly).  '  Aye,  aye.  Is  my  Uncle  Sandy 
alive  ? ' 

"  J.   '  No  ;  he  is  dead  too.' 

"  C.  'Aye,  aye'  (but  no  mark  of  sorrow),  'and  what  are 
his  children  doing  ?' 

"J.  'Indeed,  they  are  the  only  Free  Churchmen  in  the 
parish  !' 

"  C.  (opening  his  eyes  and  lifting  up  his  hands),  '  Save 
us! — is  that  possible!'  The  death  of  his  uncles  was 
evidently  a  joke  in  comparison  with  the  horrible  apostasy 
of  his  children. 

"Tuesday. — This  has  been  a  very  strange  day  ;  but  that 
you  may  understand  it,  I  must  give  you  a  little  bio- 
graphy. There  was  a  man,  McDonald,  a  missionary  some 
twenty  years  ago,  in  the  braes  of  Glen  Garry.  I  believe, 
chiefly  from  his  having  been  given  to  intoxication,  he 
was  obliged  to  resign  his  mission,  and  came  to  Cape 
Breton,  and  staid  for  a  year  or  two.  After  suffering 
great  mental  distress,  he  became  a  perfectly  sober  and 
steady  man.  He  began  preaching  among  the  High- 
landers. His  preaching  had  great  effect.  He  separated 
himself  from  the  other  clergy,  because  he  thought  them 
careless  and  bad.  His  sect  became  strono^er  and  strong-er. 
Many  wild  extravagancies  attended  the  'revivals'  under 
him,  crying  out  and  screaming-fits  of  hysteria,  which 
were  attributed  to  extraordinary  influences.  The  result, 
however,  has  been  that  three  thousand  people,  including 
fifteen  hundred  communicants,  adhere   to  him  ;    he    has 

R   2 


144  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

eight  chiirchos  huilt,  find  twenty-one  prnyer-mecting-s 
established;  no  lay-prfuchinq- ;  elders  in  all  tli(i  cliurclics  ; 
sacraments  administered.  He  keeps  all  a-going,  and  has 
never  received  more  than  £50  a-year  on  an  average.  He 
is  laughed  at  V)y  some,  ridiculed  by  others,  avoided  by  the 
clergy  ;  but  all  admit  that  he  has  changed,  or  been  the 
means  of  changing,  a  thousand  lawless,  drunken  people  into 
sober,  decent  godly  Hvers.  This  man,  then,  ordered  all  liis 
churches  to  be  put  at  our  service,  and  sent  an  invitation 
through  his  elders  for  me  to  preach.  Of  course  I  will 
preach  wherever  I  am  asked — in  a  popish  church,  if  tliey 
will  let  me.  The  worse  the  field  the  more  the  need  of 
cultivation.  I  reached  the  church  about  twelve;  McDonald, 
with  his  snow-white  locks,  surrounded  by  a  crowd,  met  me. 
'  I  rejoice,'  he  said,  taking  otf  his  hat,  *  to  see  here  an 
ordained  minister  of  the  Church  of  Scotland.  I  bless  God 
for  the  day.  I  appeal  to  you,  my  people,  if  I  have  not 
preached  the  doctrines  of  the  Confession  of  Faith,  if  I 
have  not  kept  you  from  Baptists,  Methodists,  and  every 
sect,  for  the  Church  of  your  fothers.  Welcome,  sir,  here.' 
I  said  we  would  talk  after  sermon.  T  entered  th<^  liumble 
wooden  kirk  ;  it  was  seated  for  about  three  hundred,  and 
was  crammed  by  a  decent  and  most  attentive  audience  ; 
twelve  elders  sat  below  the  pul})it.  ]\IcDonald,  with  a  strong 
voice,  led  the  psalmody, — he  and  his  elders  standing.  After 
service,  I  went  with  him  to  a  farm-house.  He  gave  me  all 
his  history,  and  we  discussed  all  his  doings.  I  frankly  told 
him  my  opinions.  He  has  had  a  hard  time  of  it.  '  Often,' 
he  said,  and  his  lip  quivered  with  emotion,  '  have  I,  on  a 
communion  season,  preached,  and  served  tables,  for  eight 
hours  in  that  church,  no  one  with  me,  and  no  food  eaten 
all  the  while.'  He  seems  now  to  feel  the  loss  of  not  beinij 
in  fellowship  with  the  Church,  and  the  .responsibility  of 
leaving  so  many  sheep  without  a  sheplierd  ;  and,  if  any  good 
minister  came  to  this  neighl)ourhood,  he  is  anxious  to  be 
readmitted.  When  I  parted  from  him,  he  burst  into  tears, 
thanking  me  for  my  '  kindness  and  delicacy  to  him,'  and 
rejoicing  in  my  having  been  with  him.  His  people,  they 
say,  an;  very  proud  of  it.  Well,  I  would  fain  hope  a  real 
work  li;is  been  doni^  here.    It'  there  have  been  extravagancies. 


1 8+5- — NORTH  AMERICA.  245 

how  man}'  such  were  at  Kilsyth  and  other  places  ;  and 
surely  better  all  this  folly,  with  such  good  results,  than 
cold  and  frigid  regularity  with  no  results  but  death. 
]3etter  to  be  driven  to  the  harbour  by  a  hurricane  that 
carries  away  spars  and  sails,  than  be  frozen  up  in  the 
glittering  and  smooth  sea.  There  are  many  things  con- 
nected with  McDonald's  sect  I  don't  approve  of.  Two  of 
his  elders  came  to  Charlotte  Town  to  bid  me  farewell  I 
gave  them  many  frank,  and,  I  thought,  unpleasant  advices. 
But  to  my  surprise,  when  parting,  the  old  men  put  their 
arms  about  my  neck,  and  im^jrinted  a  farewell  kiss  on  my 
cheek.  .  .  . 

"Boston. — I  have  been  actually  three  days  in  Boston. 
Do  you  not  think  I  am  now  well  entitled  to  give  a  sound 
opinion  upon  American  manners  ?  I  have  lived  in  one  of 
her  hotels,  heard  two  of  her  preachers,  seen  two  of  her 
Sabbath-schools — I  have  driven  in  her  cabs  and  omni- 
buses, visited  her  jails  and  lunatic  asylums,  smoked  her 
cigars,  read  her  newspapers,  and  visited  Lowell,  and  may 
I  not  be  permitted  to  guess  what  sort  of  people  they  are  ? 
I  was  prepared  upon  Saturday  to  pronounce  a  judgment 
on  the  whole  nation  ;  but,  happening  to  be  wrong  in  my 
first  opinion,  I  shut  up  my  note-book.  I  had  mounted 
the  box  of  a  coach  ;  the  driver  sat  on  my  left  hand  ;  he 
said  he  always  did.  Just  as  I  had  noted  the  great  fact  that 
*  all  drivers  in  America  sit  on  the  left  side  of  the  box,'  I 
thought  I  would  ask  what  was  gained  by  this.  '  Why,  I 
guess,'  replied  Jonathan,  'I  can't  help  it;  /'t^i  left-handed.' 
I  learned  a  lesson  from  this  :  to  beware  how  I  generalise. 

"  Our  visit  to  Boston  was  a  very  agreeable  one.  I  had 
ready  access  to  men  from  whom  I  received  much  informa- 
tion. There  is  a  Sabbath-school  Union  in  Massachusetts, 
which  I  visited  on  Sunday,  examining  their  books,  &c.,  and 
I  shall  bring  home  with  me  all  that  is  better  in  their  system 
than  in  our  own.  On  Monday,  along  Avith  Mr.  Rodgers,  I 
visited  the  American  Board  of  Missions.  On  the  way  to  it 
I  had  a  good  deal  of  conversation  Avith  him  on  Voluntaryism. 
I  was  struck  with  one  remark.  He  said,  '  Our  forefathers, 
having  suffered  from  the  tyranny  of  Prelatists,  went  to 
the  other  extreme  of  too  great  ecclesiastical  freedom.    You 


Z46  IJFE  OF  XOR^rAX  MACLEOD, 

were  wise  in  having  kept  yonr  Books  of  Discipline  and 
Confession  of  P\iitli.'  The  American  lioard  interested  ine 
mnch.  Tiiere  is  a  large  building  appropriated  exclusively 
ior  missionary  machinery.  In  the  upper  Hoor  there  are 
three  rooms — two  of  these  are  lor  the  library,  consisting 
of  volumes  of  history  and  accounts  of  the  difterent  countries 
Avhere  their  missions  are  ;  in  short,  every  book  that  can 
be  of  any  use  or  interest  to  a  missionary.  In  the  other 
room,  there  is  a  very  interesting  museum  of  objects  of 
natural  history  from  the  dilferent  [)arts  of  the  world  where 
their  missionaries  labour  ;  and  what  is  more  interesting, 
2'>(igan  sjyoils,  gods  from  the  South  Seas,  scalps  and  toma- 
hawks, &c.  I  was  struck  with  the  many  little  evidences 
of  extensive  missionary  ojjerations — a  large  room  being 
filled  with  boxes  directed  to  the  missionaries  in  ditierent 
parts  of  the  world,  and  a  large  press  ko[)t  for  holding  com- 
munications from  difterent  missionaries. 

"Sfq^temher  1st. — I  am  now  fourteen  miles  from  La  Chute. 
One  of  the  most  striking  features  of  Lower  Canada  is  its 
Popery  and  Frenchism.  One  feels  much  more  in  a  foreign 
country  here  than  in  the  States.  The  houses  are  French, 
the  same  as  we  see  in  Normandy.  There  are  many 
beautiful  large  handsome  churches,  gay  crosses  by  the 
wayside,  nunneries  and  colleges.  The  riches  of  the  church 
are  immense.  Popery  is  to  me  the  mystery  of  ini(piity. 
It  awes  me  by  its  incomprehensible  strength.  If  I  could 
to-morrow  believe  that  it  is  possible  to  believe  on  the 
authority  merely  of  the  Church,  and  that  private  judgment 
were  not  my  duty,  I  would  turn  Pa[)ist.  It  is  so  sweet 
to  the  carnal  heart  to  be  freed  from  responsibility.  Put 
only  think  of  that  system — with  its  priests  and  fine 
churches  and  colleges  everywhere  !  Why,  two  hundred 
years  ago,  the  Jesuits  had  in  Quebec,  in  the  midst  of 
forests,  a  college  like  the  College  of  Glasgow.  The  savage 
Indian  must  have  heard  their  matins,  as  he  prowled 
on  the  trail  of  an  enemy.  While  I  conversed  with  my 
intelligent  friend  Singras  in  his  room,  I  could  not  help 
expressing  my  wonder,  and  I  am  sure  ho  was  sincere 
as  he  offered  up,  with  sparkling  eyes,  a  prayer  for  my 
conversion,  and  asked   me  to  allow   him   to  pray  lor  me. 


i%^^.-~NORTH  AMERICA.  247 

If  I  am  wrong,  O  Protestant !  pardon  my  heretic  heart, 
which  must  believe  that  many  a  sincere  and  spiritual  soul 
knows  and  loves  God,  even  when  the  follies  and  infirmities 
of  old  Adnm  make  him  sing  hymns  to  the  Virgin  or  adore 
the  sacrifice  of  the  mass.  But  I  did  not  say  this  to  Singras, 
but  prayed  God  to  bless  him  and  make  him  a  Protestant. 

"  ]3ut  I  must  resume  my  travels.  There  are  beautiful 
fields  between  Eustache  and  La  Chute.  It  was  at  Eustache 
1  e  rebels  made  their  last  stand.  They  fortified  the 
( i.urjii.  It  was  burnt  by  our  troops,  and  one  or  two  hun- 
(uud  burnt  or  shot.  A  Yorkshireman's  account  of  the 
battle  to  me  was  this  : — '  The  lads  tried  to  cross  the  ice, 
intending  to  attack  the  volunteers.  They  didn't  ken  the 
right  uns  were  oop  oonder  t'  tree.  Weel,  as  thea  rebels 
gied  across,  the  right  sodgers  fired  a  ball.  Gad !  it 
scored  the  ice  as  it  hopped  along,  and  over  that  score 
none  o'  t'  rebels  wad  gang  for  life,  but  ran  back  tae  d' 
choorch,  where  they  were  boomed — hang  'em  ! ' 

"  Perth,  Sabbath  Evening. — I  have  had  the  hardest 
week's  work  I  ever  had.  I  have  gone  about  ninety  miles 
sailing,  and  a  hundred  and  twenty-seven  driving,  often 
in  lumber  waggons  without  springs,  over  the  worst  possible 
roads — have  held  fourteen  services,  and  now,  after  having 
preached  three  long  sermons  to-day,  I  am,  thank  God ! 
well  and  happy. 

"  I  have  seen  much,  and  enjoyed  myself  I  have  had 
peeps  into  real  Canadian  life ;  I  have  seen  the  true  Indians 
in  their  encampment ;  I  have  sailed  fiir  up  (one  hundred 
and  fifty  miles  above  Montreal)  the  noble  Ottawa,  and  seen 
the  lumber-men  with  their  canoes  and  the  North-westers 
on  their  way  into  the  interior,  some  to  cut  timber,  and 
some  to  hunt  beaver  for  the  Hudson  Bay  Company  ;  I 
have  been  shaken  to  atoms  over  '  corduroy '  roads,  and 
seen  life  in  the  backwoods  ;  and  I  have  been  privileged 
to  preach  to  immortal  souls,  and  to  defend  my  poor  and 
calumniated  Church  against  many  aspersions. 

"Perth,  Monday  Evening. — A  journey  of  twenty-four 
miles  is  ended,  and  I  have  spoken  two  hours  and  a  half. 
This  angry  spirit  of  Churchism  which  has  disturbed  every 
fireside  in  Scotland,  thunders  at  the  door  of  every  shantv 


2+8  LIFE   OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

in  tlie  backwoods.  I  went  to  Lanark  to-day  to  front  it. 
The  rouds  were  fearful ;  my  liands  are  sore  holding  on  by 
the  waggon  :  but  such  a  delicious  atmosjjhere,  not  a  cloud 
in  tlie  sky,  and  so  fresh  and  bracing.  The  delightful  Sep- 
tember weather  is  come ;  the  air  is  exhilarating  almost  to 
excitement.  Then,  in  going  through  the  forest,  there  is 
always  something  to  break  what  would  at  first  ai>i»ear 
to  be  intolerable  monotony.  There  are  tall  majestic 
trunks  of  trees  which  draw  your  eye  upwards  till  it  rests 
on  their  tufted  heads,  far  up  in  the  sky  ;  or  the  sun 
is  playing  beautifully  among  the  green  leaves,  or  some 
strange  tire  suddenly  appears  ;  or  you  catch  glimpses  of 
beautiful  woodpeckers,  with  gay  ))lamage,  running  up  the 
tree,  and  hear  the  tap-tap-tai>,  like  a  little  hammer  ;  or 
you  see  a  lovely  pet  of  a  squirrel,  with  bushy  tail  and  bright 
eyes,  running  a  race  with  you  along  the  fence,  stopping 
and  gazing  at  you,  then  runnmg  with  all  his  might  to  pass 
you,  then  frisking  with  its  tail  and  playing  all  kinds  of 
antics  ;  or  you  halt  and  listen  to  the  intense  silence,  and 
perhaps  hear  an  axe  chop-chop-chop, — the  great  pioneer  of 
civilisation  ;  and  then  you  suddenly  come  to  a  clearance, 
with  fine  fields,  and  cattle  with  tinkling  bells,  and  hajtpy 
children,  and  pigs,  and  perhaps  a  small  school,  and  maybe 
a  church,  and  almost  certainly  meet  a  Scotchman  or  a 
Highlander,  who  says,  '  Gosh  bless  me,  am  blieil  shibse 
mac  Mr.  Tormoid.'  If  you  see  a  miserable  shanty  and  lots 
of  pigs,  expect  to  hear  '  Erin  go  bragh.' 

**  Markham,  twenty  miles  from  Toronto,  20th  Sej^tev^her, 
Saturday  Night. — I  preach  to-morrow  in  Toronto.  AVhat 
a  variety  of  opinions  are  here  congregated !  Churchmen 
and  dissenters  of  all  kinds,  as  at  home.  I  always  preach 
the  gospel,  insisting  in  every  place  that  to  believe  this  and 
live  is  all  in  all ;  that  the  whole  value  of  Churches  consists 
in  their  bringing  the  living  seed,  the  word,  in  contact  with 
the  ground,  the  heart ;  that  the  Church  itself  is  nothing  but 
as  a  means  towards  effecting  the  end  of  making  us  know, 
love,  and  obey  God.  I  try  to  bring  men  into  the  Church 
of  Christ,  and  make  the  question  of  the  Church  of  Scotland 
a  (.econdary  matter.  In  explaining  the  Church  question 
(which,  along  with  the  sermon,  occupies  perhaps  three  or 


1845. — NORTH  AMERICA.  249 

four  hours)  I  avoid  all  personalities,  all  attacks,  and  give  full 
credit  to  ray  opj)onents  ;  and  I  think  I  have  not  said  a 
word  which  I  would  not  say  if  these  opponents  were  my 
best  friends,  and  were  sitting  beside  me.  Indeed  I  know 
that  a  Free  Church  preacher  was  (unknown  to  me)  present 
at  one  of  my  longest  addresses,  and  that  he  said  he  could 
not  find  fault  with  one  expression.  I  am  thankful  for  this. 
You  know  how  I  hate  Churchisni,  and  that  is  one  reason 
why  I  think  this  Free  movement  so  dangerous.  But  one 
of  the  saddest  feelings  is  that  exjoerienced  at  parting.  I 
have  generally  ended  my  address  by  such  a  sentiment 
as  this  :  '  Yet  all  this  is  not  religion  ;  it  is  onl}^  about 
religion.  My  sermon  was  on  the  real  work.  The  true 
battle  is  between  Christ  and  the  w'orld — between  be- 
lievers and  unbelievers  ;  that  was  the  battle  which  I  have 
been  fighting  while  preaching.  But  this  painful  and 
profitless  combat  is  between  Christian  brethren.  The 
Church  controversy  is  a  question  on  non-essentials,  on 
'  meat  and  drink.'  But  '  the  kingdom  of  God  is  not  meat 
and  drink,  but  righteousness,  and  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Holy 
Ghost.'  I  have  seen  many  on  their  dying  beds.  I  never 
heard  any  rejoice  that  they  belonged  to  this  or  that 
Church  ;  but  if  they  w^ere  glad,  it  was  because  they  were 
in  Christ.  It  is  almost  certain  that,  when  you  and  I  meet 
next,  it  will  be  in  the  presence  of  Christ  Jesus.  If  we 
are  glad  then,  it  will  not  be  because  we  have  been  in  an 
Established  or  Free  Church,  but  because  w^e  are  in  the 
Church  gathered  out  of  every  nation.  And  if  on  that  day 
I  can  look  back  with  joy  to  this  day's  work,  it  will  not  be 
because  of  Avhat  I  have  said  upon  the  Church  of  Scotland, 
but  to  Avhat  I  have  said  about  Christ  Jesus.'  Yes  ;  these 
partings  are  sad  and  solemn  !  But  the  satisfaction  is  great  to 
have  told  the  honest  truth  in  everything.  We  part  always 
with  good-will,  and  with  many  kind  wishes  and  prayers. 

"The  little  Manse  is  always  affecting  to  me.  It  is  gene- 
rally a  small  wooden  house  ;  no  carpets — poor,  poor.  O 
honest  Poverty!  let  me  never  contemplate  thee  but  with  a 
tearful  eye  of  sympathy  and  love.      Who  would  laugh  at 

poor  S with  his  little  school,  broken  up  by  the  Free 

Church,  and  his  wife  and  bairns  looking  poor  and  sad  ? 


2 50  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Who  would  smile  but   iu   love  at   M ,   with    his  old 

housekeeper,  Kirsty,  and  his  half  bottle  of  port,  which  he 
said  'should  be  sound  (looking  at  the  glass  between  him 
and  the  light),  but  it   had  boon  six   months  drawn,  and 

perha'ps  had  been  spoiled  V   Who  would  despise  poor 'a 

'  study,'  albeit  there  was  in  it  but  few  books,  an  old  chair, 
and  rickety  table  ?  Yet  he  himself  was  there,  with  a  large 
head  and  heart,  and  fit  to  minister  to  any  Church  on  earth. 
Who  would  laugh,  though  he  had  only  a  tin  teapot  and  no 
ewer  to  the  basin  ?  Honest  souls !  your  reward  is  little 
in  this  world  ;  and  most  blameable  will  we  at  home  be  if  we 
do  not  assist  you,  the  pioneers  of  civilisation  iu  the  forest ! 

"  I  shot  the  Long  Sault  rapid.  A  noble  sight.  The 
St.  Lawrence,  the  king  of  streams,  becomes  compressed 
between  rocky  islands  and  a  rocky  shore.  The  result  is  a 
wavy,  foaming  current — roaring  like  a  big  burn  after  a 
spate.  Away  goes  the  large  steamer,  four  men  at  the 
wheel  forward,  and  four  men  at  the  tiller  astern  ;  down 
she  whirls,  the  spray  flying  over  her  bows,  and  she  going 
seventeen  miles  an  hour.  She  cannot  stem  it,  but  she 
shoots  it  nobly.  It  is  a  fine  sight  to  see  the  majestic 
stream,  crossed  and  angry  and  plunging  and  foaming  like 
a  pettish  brook.  The  brook  can  be  opposed  ;  but  what 
power  will  stem  the  fury  of  the  St.  Lawrence  ? 

"Saturday,  16th. — This  day's  sail  was  'beautiful  ex- 
ceedingly.' It  was  through  the  Lake  of  the  Thousand 
Isles.  I  had,  from  reading  '  Honison's  Sketches  of  North 
America,'  when  a  boy,  a  vision  of  beauty  and  glory  and 
undefined  grandeur  connected  with  this  same  lake.  Like 
most  things  which  appear  fiiir  to  the  fancy,  the  reality  did 
not  come  up  to  the  dream,  but  still  it  was  very  beautiful. 

"  From  Kingston  we  proceeded  by  steam  to  Toronto, 
up  the  bay  of  Quints  to  Belleville.  This  bay  is  one  of 
the  fair  scenes  in  Canada.  The  moon  rose  in  glory  and 
majesty,  and  I  was  loth  to  quit  the  deck  for  the  confined 
crib  in  the  small  cabin.  While  walking  on  the  upper  deck, 
I  heard  a  number  of  voices  joining  in  a  Gaelic  chorus.  I 
went  down  and  there  found  a  dozen  Highlanders.  After 
they  were  finished,  the  following  conversation  took  place, 
I  speaking  in  high  English. 


1 845- — NORTH  AMERICA.  251 

"  *  Pray  what  language  is  that  ?* 

"  *  Gaelic,  sir.' 

"  '  Where  is  that  spoken  ? ' 

•' '  In  the  Hii^hlands  of  Scotland.' 

"  '  Is  it  a  language  V 

"  '  It's  the  only  true  langidge.  English  is  no  langidge 
at  all,  at  all.' 

"  '  It  must  be  banished  ;  it  is  savage.' 

"  *  It's  no  you,  or  any  other,  Avill  banish  it.* 

"  '  Pray  let  me  hear  you  speak  a  sentence  of  it.  Address 
a  question  to  me.' 

"  '  Co  as  a  thanaig  thu  V      {Where  do  yon  come  fromi  ?) 

"  'Thanaig  mis  as  an  Eilean  Sgianach !'  (I  come 
from  the  Isle  of  Sky e.) 

"  '  0,  fheiidail !  'Se  Gael  tha  am.'  {Oh  goodness !  He 
is  a  Highlander !) 

"  These  men  had  never  been  in  Scotland.  They  were  all 
Glengarry  men,  and  were  of  course  rejoiced  to  meet  me. 

"  The  number  of  Highlanders  one  meets,  and  of  those, 
too,  who  are  from  the  old  homes  of  Morven  and  Mull,  is 
quite  curious.  At  Toronto  there  came  to  see  us,  first, 
three  men  from  Mull  who  had  been  forty  3'ears  in  Canada, 
and  could  speak  hardly  a  word  of  English  ;  but  each  was 
linked  some  way  to  my  grandfather's  house,  and  they 
laughed  and  cried,  time  about,  telling  stories  about  the 
'  water-foot '  of  Aros.  Then  came  an  old  servant  from 
Campbeltown — *  Ochanee  !  ochanee!' — remembering,  I 
believe,  all  the  shirts  I  had  when  a  boy.  Then  a  man 
from  Morven  entered.  *  Do  I  know  your  father  ?  Tor- 
moid  Og  !  It's  me  that  knows  him.'  My  uncle  found  a 
woman,  near  Lake  Simcoe,  who  was  longing  to  see  him. 
When  he  entered  she  burst  into  tears.  She  had  on  a 
Highland  plaid  and  a  silver  brooch.  He  thought  he  knew 
the  brooch.  It  was  Jenny  M'Lean's,  the  old  hen-wife  at 
Fiunary,  given  her  by  my  uncle  Donald  before  he  died  ; 
and  this  woman  was  Jenny's  sister  !  It  is  like  a  resur- 
rection to  meet  people  in  this.  way.  And  these  form  the 
strength  of  the  country.  As  long  as  the  old  stock  remains, 
all  is  sound  and  well.  Old  associations,  the  old  church, 
the  old  school,  the  simple  manners,  the  warm  attachments 


252  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

of  a  time  almost  vanished  from  Scotland,  survive  Lore. 
May  llit'v  not  be  l)lasted  by  the  fierce  fire  of  Churcliism, 
which  is  annihilating  the  social  habits  of  Scotland,  and 
converting  her  peasantry  into  bigots,  and  her  loyal  j)eople 
Uito  fanatic  democrats  ! 

"  At I  met  old  Dr.  M .      He  had  a  frightful 

8tamm(n'.  I  asked  how  they  spent  the  Sabbath,  having  no 
Minister  ?  He  said,  '  I  t-tried  to  col-col-lect  the  pe-pe- 
people  to  hear  a  ssss-sermon  ;  but,  after  reading  one, 
s-somchow  or  other  they  did  not  c-come  to  hear  me  again  ! 
It  was  t-too  b-bad  ! '  Poor  fellow  1  fancy  him  reading  a 
sermon  !'" 

"  In  crossing;  the  Lake,  I  saw  on  the  horizon  a  light 
feathery  cloud  of  a  peculiar  shape.  It  was  the  spray  of  the 
Falls  of  Niagara ! 

"  Tills  is  my  last  letter  from  America.  God  be  praised 
f(jr  all  his  mercies  to  an  unworthy  sinner.  I  shall  give 
you  my  next  journal  viva  voce." 


Ou  thcii*  rotnrn  I'rom  America,  the  deputation  re- 
ceived a  hearty  welcome  from  the  Church,  and  the 
thanks  of  the  Assembly  were  accorded  to  them  ibr 
the  manner  in  which  they  had  fulfilled  their  duty. 
Crowded  meetings  were  held  in  Edinbiu-gh  and  Glas- 
gow, to  receive  their  account  of  the  Colonies.  The 
effects  of  their  visit  were  long  felt  in  Canada,  and 
many  pleasing  tokens  occuiTed  in  after  years  of  the 
deep  and  lasting  influences  produced  by  the  pre- 
sence and  teaching  of  the  deputies. 

*  Ho  used  to  tell  another  story  of  this  good  old  gentleman. 
They  were  driving  together  through  the  forest  on  a  frightfully  hot  day, 
and  the  Doctor  in  a  tremendous  heut,  from  the  conjoined  laboiir  of 
whijipiug  his  horse  and  stammering,  began  to  implore  Nonuan  Macleod 
to  send  them  a  minister.  "  We  d-d-don't  expect  a  v-v-very  c-c-clevet 
man,  but  would  bo  quite  pleased  to  have  one  who  could  g-g-give 
us  a  p-p-plain  every-day  s-s-s-ermon  like  what  you  y-'jnvc  «m  your- 
telf  to-dfiy  !  " 


CHAPTEB  XL 

EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE,  AND  TOUR  IN   PRUSSIAN  POLAND 
ANB    SILESIA. 

rpHE  excitement  caused  by  the  Disniption  had  not 
J-  yet  cahned  down,  for  the  animosity  of  party 
spirit  still  burned  with  a  heat  almost  unparalleled  even 
in  the  ecclesiastical  history  of  Scotland.  Those  who 
had  once  been  intimate  friends  passed  one  another  with- 
out sign  of  recognition,  and  family  life  was  embittered 
by  parents  and  children,  brothers  and  sisters,  taking 
adverse  sides  on  the  Strathbogie  case,  or  on  the  powers 
of  the  Civil  Magistrate. 

This  reigning  spirit  of  intolerance  stiri'ed  the 
keener  feelings  of  Norman  Macleod  far  more  than 
the  questions  which  divided  the  rival  Churches. 
However  decided  his  views  may  have  been  as  to  the 
merits  of  the  controversy,  he  cared  infinitely  more  for 
the  maintenance  of  just  and  kindly  feelings  between 
Cliristians,  than  for  anything  in  dispute  between  eccle- 
siastical parties.  He  did  not  grudge  the  success 
of  the  Free  Church,  and  he  lamented  the  conduct  of 
those  who  refused  sites  for  her  churches.  But  he 
protested  with  utmost  vigour  against  the  spirit  of 
intolerance   which   was   too   often   displayed   by  the 


2  54  LIFE  OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

Church  of  the  Disruption,  and  on  some  occasions 
he  sj)oke  and  wrote  in  strong  terms  against  its 
bigotry.  '  I  am  not  conscious  of  entertaining  any 
angry  or  hostile  feeling  towards  the  Free  Church 
as  '  a  branch  of  Christ's  Catholic  Church.'  I  desire 
that  God  may  help  all  its  labours,  both  at  home 
and  abroad,  for  advancing  that  '  kingdom  which  is 
righteousness,  peace,  and  joy  in  the  Iloly  Ghost.'  I 
respect  many  of  its  ministers  and  I  enjoy  the  friend- 
ship of  many  of  its  members.  I  admire  its  zeal  and 
energy.  I  have  no  sympathy  with  the  alleged  attempts 
to  embarrass  any  of  its  ministers — or  the  ministers  of 
any  Church  on  earth — when  seeking  accommodation 
for  themselves  or  their  adherents.  My  remarks  are 
dii'ected  solely  against  that  proud  and  intolerant  spirit 
which  says  to  the  Church  of  Scotland,  '  Stand  back,  I 
am  holier  than  thou,'  and  which  has  corroded  so  many 
hearts  formerly  kind  and  loving.  I  detest  Church 
controversy ;  it  is  rarely  profitable  to  writer  or 
reader ;  it  is  apt  to  darken  our  minds  and  injure  our 
best  affections.  Let  these  men,  in  one  word,  love 
Christians  more  than  Churches,  and  the  body  of  Christ 
more  than  their  own,  and  they  will  soon  discover  that 
separation  from  a  Church,  and  protesting  against  a 
Church,  are  quite  compatible  with  union  with  that 
very  Church,  on  the  ground  of  a  conmion  faith,  and 
co-operation  with  it  for  the  advancement  of  a  common 
Chi'istianity.' 

He  was,  in  truth,  utterly  weary  of  ecclesiastical 
strife,  and  when,  during  his  visit  to  America,  he 
heard  of  the  proposed  formation  of  the  Evangelical 
Alliance,  he  hailed  with  delight  a  project  which  not 


EVANGELICAL   ALLJANCE.  255 

only  harmonized  Avitli  his  own  deepest  feelings,  but 
promised  to  have  a  specially  beneiicial  effect  in  healing 
the  divisions  of  Scothmd. 

The  Alliance  was  then  in  the  freshness  of  its  yonth, 
and  when  he  came  home  he  threw  himself  with  his 
whole  heart  into  the  movement.  The  narrowness 
of  spirit,  which  afterwards  repelled  him  from  its 
ranks,  had  not,  as  yet,  displaj^ed  its  j)i"esence.""  He 
was  profoundly  touched  by  the  atmosphere  of  Christian 
brotherhood  which  prevailed  at  the  preliminary  con- 
ference held  in  Birmingham,  and  he  was  still  more 
impressed  by  the  imposing  assembly  of  delegates 
from  all  parts  of  the  world  which  met  afterwards 
in  London.  He  had  already  seen  much  of  the  world, 
but  he  had  now  the  privilege  of  becoming  acquainted 
with  some  of  the  most  eminent  representatives  of  home 
and  foreign  Churches,  and  gained  such  an  insight  into 
the  vital  principles  and  character  of  these  Churches  as 
only  contact  with  living  men  coukl  give.  By  means 
also  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance  he  established  a 
friendly  relation  with  many  of  the  great  missionary 
bodies  of  England,  and,  on  their  invitation,  went  for 
several  years  to  London  to  attend  the  May  meetings, 
or  to  preach  the  annual  sermon  in  connection  with 
some  of  their  societies.  His  influence  increased  as  his 
power  became  known,  and  his  own  faith  and  courage 
were  mightily  strengthened  by  the  enlarged  sympathies 
he  gained  from  co-operation  with  other  Christians. 

*  See  Cliapter  XVI.  May  25th,  18G3. 


2  56  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  Ilia  Mother  : — 

Dalkeith,  %th  March,  1846. 

"I  am  not  lazy  or  careless — far  less  indifferent;  but 
■writing  letters  is  uncongenial  to  me.  I  fancy  that  when  I 
say,  '  we  are  all  well,  and  love  you,  and  are  always  thinking 
of  you  and  speaking  of  you,'  that  I  have  said  all  that  is 
required ;  and  that  the  state  of  the  weather,  the  health  of 
dogs  and  cats,  and  the  jog-trot  adventures  of  every  day, 
cannot  merit  a  record  on  paper.  There  are  a  thousand 
things  I  would  like  to  say — not  to  write — that  abominable 
scratch,  scratch,  scratch  !  that  heavy,  lumbering  bread-and- 
butter  style  of  conveying  stories  and  facts  which  need  the 
eye,  the  voice,  the  grace  notes  and  touches  which  give 
them  life !  It  is  after  all  but  another  edition  of  Laura 
Bridgman,  a  speaking  from  the  tip  of  the  lingers,  and 
giving  glimpses  of  thought. 

"■  Now  here  I  am  with  yards  of  jiaper  before  me,  and 
C,000  people  round  me — a  romance  in  every  close,  a  tale 
in  every  family  requiring  volumes  and  not  pages.  Jane 
will  tell  you  what  a  coach-horse  life  I  lead,  and  how  diffi- 
cult it  is  for  me  to  get  time  to  pour  out  my  heart,  though 
full  to  the  brim,  into  yours,  which  I  verily  believe  would 
never  be  so  full  as  to  make  you  call  '  stop,'  though  all 
your  children  were  to  w^ite  to  you  by  the  steam  press. 

"  But  what  news  can  I  give  you  ?  '  Can  I  not  tell  what 
is  doing  in  the  house? '  Yes  ;  but  are  you  serious  in  say- 
ing you  wish  to  hear  ?  '  Yes,  quite  serious.'  Then,  if  so, 
you  have  little  to  think  about.  But,  as  far  as  I  know,  the 
following  is  the  state  of  the  house  : — 

"As  to  the  attics,  one  is  locked  up,  and  in  the  other 
your  youngest  son  slept  last  night  inuler  the  influence  of 
a  lesson  in  Latin  and  a  plaie  of  porridge.  In  the  next 
floor,  one  bndvoom  is  cold  and'  empty.  Another  room  was 
occupied  last  night  by  your  firstborn.  As  yon  may  like 
to  know  how  he  passed  the  night,  I'll  tell  you.  Having 
resolved  to  be  abstemious  in  his  eating — '  Why  now  are 
you  that?'  My  dear  mother,  a  man's  liver  is  the  better 
of  it.  It  keeps  him  cool,  makes  him  sleep  well,  and  wake 
light  and  hearty.     Well,  having  resolved  to  be  abstemious, 


EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE.  isi 

I  took  one  and  a  half  Welsh  rabbits  to  my  supper — the 
cheese  (being  next  to  milk)  was  laid  on  thick.  I  was  soon 
asleep.  '  Did  you  dream  ?  '  No.  '  No  nightmares  ? '  No. 
'  What  did  you  do  ? '      Sleep,  according  to  an  old  habit. 

"  Lower  floor — study  occupied  by  your  son,  one  pipe,  a 
dog  and  cat,  books,  &c.  Other  rooms  empty.  Cellars 
— rubbish,  broken  glass  and  starved  rats. 

"  Are  you  wiser  now  ?  '  And  what  is  doing  outside  ?  ' 
My  dear,  that  outside  is  a  big  word.  The  sky  is  blue  ; 
the  birds  are  singing  ;  carts  are  passing  on  the  road  ;  men 
and  women  are  drinking  ;  some  crying ;  some  starving  ; 
some  dying.  That  word  has  tolled  me  back  to  being  ! 
I  can  be  merry  no  longer.  I  was  laughing  beside  you, 
but  now  I  am  in  real  life.  I  see  sad  scenes,  and  hear  sad 
things,  and  my  heart  is  not  light.  So  I  shall  not  write 
anything  more  to-day — but  my  sermon." 

To  his  Mother  : — 

Dalkeith,  June  3rd,  1846. 

"  I  cannot  let  my  birthday  pass  without  saying  God  bless 
thee-^ — for  my  birth  and  up-bringing — and  the  unceasing 
love  and  goodness  Avhich  has  beamed  upon  me  from  your 
heart  and  which  has  gladdened  my  life  on  earth,  and  next 
to  the  grace  of  God  has  helped  to  prepare  me  for  the  life 
in  Heaven  which  I  hope,  through  the  mercy  of  God  in 
Christ,  to  share  with  yourself,  and  perhaps  with  all  who 
have  shared  our  domestic  joys." 

To  his  Sister  Jane  : — 

Evangelical  Alliance  Conference  at  Birmingham, 
4  o'clock,  Wednesday,  April. 

"  I  have  been  in  two  '  Sessions '  of  the  Conference,  and 
I  take  half  an  hour's  breathing  time  to  write  to  you  my 
first  impressions.  You  ask  how  I  liked  it  ?  I  reply  that 
it  was  one  of  the  happiest  evenings  I  ever  spent  on  earth. 
Never  in  any  company  had  I  the  same  deep  peace  and  joy, 
and  the  same  broken-heartedness  for  sin.  Oh  !  what .  a 
prayer  was  that  of  Octavius  Winslow's !  It  stirred  my 
deepest  feelings,  and  made  the  tears  pour  down  my  cheeks. 

VOL.    I.  S 


258  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

How  I  wished  that  you  could  have  been  there  !  And  then 
to  see  so  many  on  their  knees — and  to  hear  the  '  Aniens ' 
of  acquitiscing,  sympathising,  and  feeHng  spirits  ;  I  woukl 
liave  gone  ten  tini«,'S  tlie  distance  to  have  enjoyc.'d  all 
I  did. 

"About  120  are  present  to-day.  Candlish,  Gutliric, 
Hamilton,  arc  there,  but  I  have  not  yet  spoken  to  any.  I 
am  more  afraid  to-day.  I  fear  that  they  are  growing  too 
fast  outwards.  As  long  as  we  deal  with  God,  we  seem 
omnipotent  in  Him  and  through  Him,  but  our  attempts  at 
work  professedly  for  Him  seem  to  me  highly  dangerous  as 
yet.  I  pray  God  that  all  may  go  on  well.  The  prayer 
and  praise  are  glorious.  It  has  developed  in  me  an  affec- 
tion which  hitherto  I  have  only  manifested  but  partially — 
very  partially — and  that  only  in  words — because  of  a  lack 
of  opportunity, — I  mean,  love  to  ministerial  brethren.  I 
feel  like  a  man  who  had  brothers — but  they  had  been 
abroad — and  he  had  never  seen  them  before.  I  feel  too, 
how  much  knowing  the  brethren  comes  from  seeing  them  ; 
'  the  brother  whom  he  hath  seen  '  increases  love  to  Him 
who  is  unseen." 

To  his  Sister  Jane  : — 

Conference,  at  London,  Wednesday,  May  2oth. 

"  Everything  goes  on  pleasantly  and  well.  The  Frees, 
honest  fellows.,  are  not  here.  The}'  are  a  loss,  for  they 
have  good  heads  for  business. 

"  Bickersteth,  dear  man,  is  in  the  chair,  and  Bunting, 
noble  man,  is  now  speaking.  Angel  James  is  about  to 
follow,  and  Dr.  llaffles  has  tinished.  It  is  mere  chat,  like 
a  nice  family  circle,  and  I  hope  that  our  Elder  Brother  is 
in  the  midst  of  it." 

To  Elizabeth  PATTERSonr.* 

At  Sea,  on  his  way  to  London,  6  P.M.,  Wednesday,  August. 
"  How  rich  is  that  grace  which  can  not  only  give  peace 
to  ourselves,  but  also  make  us  share  His  own  joy  in  giving 

*  Among  the  iriiiny  members  of  his  flock  in  Dalkeith  who  encou- 
raged him  in  his  ■work,  thoro  was  one  who,  unable  herself  to  take  an 


EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE.  259 

good  and  happiness  to  others  !  None  but  He  could  make 
you,  a  weak  creature,  without  hands  or  feet  or  tongue, 
stretched  on  a  bed  of  pain — able  not  only  to  be  an 
example  to  us  of  faith  and  patience,  but  an  inexpressible 
strength  to  us,  as  you  have  many  a  day  been  to  me. 
Well,  dear.  His  own  work,  Avhatever  it  be,  will  be  perfected 
in  you,  and  by  you  ;  and  then,  but  not  till  then,  He  will 
perfect  you  in  Himself,  But  as  long  as  you  can  please 
and  glorify  Him  more  on  earth  than  in  Heaven,  you  will, 
I  am  sure,  be  content  to  stay ;  and  I  hope  we  shall  all 
be  taught  by  your  meek  compliance  with  His  will  to 
comply  with  it  too,  when  He  takes  you  hence  or  takes  us. 
He  Who  has  hitherto  so  wonderfully  helped  you,  is  able 
surely  to  help  you  to  the  end.  The  Hand  which  holds 
all  the  ocean  I  see  around  me,  which  sustains  this 
blue  sky  over  my  head,  can  uphold  and  sustain  your 
weak  bod}^,  for  it  is  more  precious  than  all  this  big 
world.  It  is  a  redeemed  body.  The  mountains  may  depart ; 
His  love  never  !  Every  drop  of  the  ocean  will  be  exhausted  ; 
His  love  never !  The  Heavens  will  depart  like  a  scroll, 
but  they  who  do  His  will  shall  abide  for  ever  !  Let  us 
praise  Him  !     May  He  be  with  you  day  and  night  !" 

active  share  of  duty,  yet  perhaps  really  strengthened  him  more  than 
any  other.  Elizabeth  Patterson  had  been  an  invalid  and  a  sufferer 
for  sevei-al  years  before  he  came  to  the  parish,  and  during  the  eight 
years  of  his  ministry  there,  she  was  only  once  or  twice  out  of  bed. 
She  required  the  constant  care  of  her  widowed  mother  and  her 
loving  sisters.  She  was  frequently  so  weak  when  he  visited  her, 
that  she  could  not  speak  but  in  a  whisper ;  yet  that  always 
expressed  kindness  towards  others,  or  meek  resignation  to  the  will 
of  God.  She  seemed  to  forget  herself  in  the  interest  she  took  in 
Christ's  kingdom,  caring  for  the  good  of  the  poorest  child  in  Dal- 
keith as  well  as  for  the  advance  of  religion  over  the  earth.  It  was 
no  wonder  that  such  a  character  drew  forth  his  sympathies.  He  often 
spoke  of  the  comfort  and  strength  he  got  from  witnessing  her  faith 
and  courage,  and  from  knowing  that  she  and  her  family,  and  her 
good  friend  Mrs.  Porteous,  were  '  instant  in  prayer '  on  his  behalf. 
Often,  after  a  weary  day's  work  in  filthy  closes,  he  would  find 
refreshment  and  gain  new  hopefulness  at  the  bedside  of  this  holy  suf- 
ferer. She  and  her  family  afterwards  went  to  St.  Andrew's,  but  vmtil 
the  time  of  her  death  in  1863,  he  kept  up  his  friendship  with  her, 
and  sometimes  went  from  Glasgow  to  visit  her  on  her  weary  sick-bed. 

s  2 


«6o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  his  Sister  Jane  :— 

LoxDox,  AiKjnst. 

"  Tlio  Alliance  lins  been  formed.  Such  a  scene  of  prayer, 
bhiiking-  of  liands,  and  many  weeijing  ! 

"  I  met  a  man  this  morning  with  a  towering  forehead, 
having  'the  harvest  of  a  quiet  eye,'  and  'a  most  noble 
carriage.'  I  was  introduced  to  him,  and  he  said,  '  1  know 
your  name,  and  I  am  glad  to  have  seen  your  face.'  I 
replied,  '  Sir,  I  have  long  revered  you,  and  now  rejoice 
to  grasp  your  hand.'  Then  we  for  a  short  time  discoursed 
about  our  Church,  and  when,  in  explanation  of  our  position, 
I  said,  '  I  fear  I  must  call  the  Free  Church  the  party  of 
Presbyterian  Puseyism,'  he  seized  my  arm,  and  said,  '  You 
have  taken  the  words  out  of  my  mouth.  I  wrote  to  the 
King  stating  the  same  thing.  I  think  they  are  making 
the  Cliurch  an  idol'     Who  was  this  ? — Bunsen." 

London,  August  4tli,  1845. 
"I  have  just  time  to  say  that  our  Alliance  goes  on 
nobly.  There  are  1,000  members  met  from  all  the 
world,  and  the  prayers  and  praises  would  melt  your  heart, 
Wardlaw,  Bickersteth,  Tholuck,  say  that  in  their  whole 
experience  they  never  beheld  anything  like  it.  I  assure 
you  many  a  tear  of  joy  is  shed.  It  is  more  like  Heaven 
than  anything  I  ever  experienced  on  earth.  The  work  is 
done,  a  work  in  our  spirits  which  can  never  be  undone. 
The  Americans  have  behaved  nobly.  I  am  appointed  chair- 
man of  one  of  the  future  meetings  for  devotion,  an  honour 
to  which  I  am  not  entitled  except  as  representing  my 
Church.  I  would  the  whole  world  were  with  us !  No 
report  can  give  you  any  idea  of  it.  I  am  half-asloej),  as  it 
is  past  midnight.  I  have  to  meet  Czersky  at  breakfast  at 
eight." 

To  his  AroTTiER  : — 

"  ^fy  mind  and  heart  are  almost  wearied  with  the  excite- 
ment of  this  time.  Meetings  every  day — conversing, 
snioking    with    Germans,     French,    AuK-ricaiis,    »!v:c. — all 


EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE.  261 

in  love  and  harmony.  Tholnck,  Rheinthaler,  Earth, 
Cramer,  from  Germany  ;  Monod,  Fisch,  Vernet,  from 
France  ;  Cox,  Kirk,  Sidnner,  Paton,  Emery,  De  Witt, 
Baird,  from  America.  It  would  take  hours  to  tell  you  m^ 
news." 

From  his  JoTJRNAL  : — 

Septemher,  1S46. 

"  What  an  eventful  year  has  this  been  to  me  !  In  June^ 
1845,  I  crossed  the  great  Atlantic,  and  returned  home  in 
safety  in  November.  Since  then  I  have  had  much  to  do 
with  colonial  matters.  I  have  received,  with  my  colleagues, 
the  thanks  of  the  Assembly.  I  have  visited  Birmingliani 
as  a  member  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  I  have  been 
thrice  in  London — once  to  address  five  meetings  on  our 
Missions,  and  once  as  a  Member  of  the  Select  Com- 
mittee of  the  Alliance,  and  the  third  time  attending  the 
Alliance  itself.  I  have,  besides,  Avritten  four  articles  for  a 
Magazine,  spoken  at  four  public  meetings  in  Scotland,  and 
I  have  not  neglected  my  own  parish.  I  trust  I  may  now 
have  some  time  to  devote  my  whole  energies  to  this  home 
work,  and  to  publishing  religious  tracts,  I  have  gained 
more  than  I  can  express  by  intercourse  with  the  world. 
In  America,  and  at  the  Alliance,  I  have  mingled  more 
with  other  minds — got  hold  of  more — than  during  my 
whole  lifetime. 

"  What  has  been  done  by  the  Alliance  ? 

"  1.  Brethren  have  met  and  prayed  together ;  they 
have  become  acquainted  and  learned  to  love  one  another. 
Is  this  not  much  ?  If  the  tree  must  grow  from  wnthin 
— if  Love  is  to  be  the  fountain  of  all  good  to  the  Church 
and  the  world — is  this  not  much  ?  Is  it  not  almost  all  ? 
Was  not  every  one  at  the  Alliance  melted  by  the  harmony 
and  love  that  prevailed  ?  What  holy  and  happy  hours  were 
these !  Often  was  that  room  in  Birmingham  and  London 
felt  to  be  the  house  of  God,  the  gate  of  Heaven ! 

"  2.  W^as  it  not  much  to  have  agreed  upon  a  basis,  and 
to  have  presented  to  the  PajMst  so  much  harmony  upon 
cardinal  doctrines  ?  Aii  wno  nad  any  dealings  with  thd 
Popish  Church  felt  this. 


abs  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

"  ^.  May  not  a  loiulor  voice  now  sj)aik  to  the  world 
than  has  spoken  lor  a  tune  ? 

"  The  happu^st  and  proudest  day  I  ever  spent  was  ihii 
»hiy  I  presided  hi  JiOndon  over  the  Evangelical  Alliance." 

To  Principal  Campbell,  of  Aberdeen : — 

Dalkeith,  Sept'-mher,  1846. 

"  I  received  your  brochure  yesterday.  I  do  not  quite 
agi'ee  with  you  in  some  points.  I  think  there  may  be  all 
the  one-ncss  which  Christ  ever  intended  to  exist  in  the 
Church,  without  that  kind  of  visible  unity  which  you 
seem  to  contend  for.  The  grand  problem  is  how  to  obtain 
the  greatest  amount  of  one-ness  in  essential  doctrine — 
in  artection — in  work — with  the  greatest  amount  of  personal 
and  congregational  freedom  as  to  government  and  worship. 
We  may  begin  by  assuming  that  denominations  must  exist. 
Let  us  try  to  give  the  disjecta  membra  unity.  Find  the 
unknown  quantity  x,  which  is  to  be  the  bond,  of  union. 
Here  they  are : — legs,  arms,  heads,  eyes,  ears,  scattered 
about.  What  form  of  body  will  unite  them,  leaving  to 
each  his  individuality  ?  Heaven  alone  knoAvs ;  I  don't. 
In  the  meantime  we  must  do  what  we  can. 

"  I  preached  the  anniversary  sermon  for  the  Wesleyans  in 
their  large  chapel  in  Edinburgh.  Such  a  crowd  !  Long 
before  the  hour  every  crevice  was  choked.  Up  the  pulpit 
stairs,  and  HUing  all  the  passages.  As  Southey  says  of 
the  rats, 

'  And  in  at  the  windows,  and  in  at  the  door, 
And  through  the  walls  in  hundreds  they  pour. 
From  within  and  without,  from  above  and  belo'W, 
And  all  at  once  to  tho  Bishop  thoy  go.' 

"  I  am  the  first  Established  minister  who  has  preached 
in  their  church." 


The  death  of  his  old  teacher.  Dr.  Chalmers,  deeply 
moved  him,  and,  when  addressing  the  Lay  Assoeiatiou 
of  the  Church  of  Scotland,  he  took  the  opportunity  of 


EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE.  261 

paying  a  tribute  to  the  memory  of  this  great  and  good 
man — '  wliose  noble  character,  lofty  enthusiasm,  nnd 
patriotic  views  will  rear  themselves  before  the  eyes 
of  posterity  like  Alpine  peaks,  long  after  the  narrow 
valleys  which  have  for  a  brief  peiiod  divided  us  are 
lost  in  the  far  distance  of  past  history.' 

To  his  Mother  : — 

June,  1847. 

"  Another  third  of  June  !  and  another,  and  another — it 
may  be — until  there  is  no  son  to  write  and  no  mother  to 
Avrite  to,  and  the  passing  birthdays  of  time  are  lost  in  the 
new  birth  of  an  endless  day. 

"  You  would  be  grieved  for  dear  old  Chalmers.  I  am 
sure  you  will  sympathize  with  what  I  said  tibout  him  at 
our  public  meeting  on  Tuesday.  I  was  grieved  that  later 
ditferences  prevented,  I  think  foolishly,  any  notice  being 
taken  of  his  death  in  our  Assembly.  The  motives  for  our 
doing  so  might  have  been,  jjerhaps,  misunderstood.  There 
is  a  great  power  at  work,  called  Dignity,  which  sometimes 
appears  to  me  to  be  like  General  Tom  Thumb,  the  dwaif, 
acting  Napoleon.  I  may  be  misinterpreted,  too — I  don't 
care.  A  man's  head — at  least  mine — may  deceive  a 
hundred  times  a  day — a  man's  heart  never !  I  never  felt 
the  Tightness  or  wrongness  of  any  thing  strongly,  without 
its  really  turning  out  to  be  the  right  or  the  wrong  I  thought 
it  was.  Dear  old  man  !  He  is  among  congenial  minds 
for  the  first  time — he  never  breathed  his  own  native  air 
till  now — never  felt  at  home  till  now.  I  intend  going  to 
his  funeral.  I  hope  the  Free  Church  will  have  the  taste 
not  to  attempt  to  make  it  sectarian — Chalmers  belonged 
to  Scotland.  I  am  just  going  to  write  a  funeral  sermon 
on  him.  I  feel  he  is  a  father  and  brother  a  thousand 
times  more  than  men  whom  I  address  as  '  Falhrrs  and 
Brethren.' 

"  This  is  a  glorious  day.  The  hawthorn  is  bursting  into 
wreaths  of  snow  ;  'the  birds  are  busy  in  the  woods';  the 
butterflies  are  glinting  among  the  bushes ;  and  everything 
is  lovely. 


zU 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MAC  I.  FOB. 


"  Is  my  father  with  you  ?  1  need  not  say  th.'it  he  is 
inscparal)ly  connected  with  you  in  my  thoughts  to-day,  for 
I  am  sure  a  kinder  father  no  children  ever  had.  I  am 
thankful  that  lie  fixed  upon  the  ^linistrv  for  me.  I  declare 
I  do  not  rememher  a  day  when  I  thought  it  possil>le  that 
I  could  be  anything  else  than  a  ^linister — nor  do  I  remem- 
ber any  other  profession  which  for  a  moment  I  ever  wished 
to  adopt — unless  in  school,  when  I  once  desired  to  be  a 
bandmaster  ;  at  another  time,  a  Ducrow  galloper  on  horses; 
and,  lastly,  and  more  especially,  a  Captain  of  a  man-of-war  ! 


"My   dear,   I    remember   long  ago,  when   there   was  a 
minister  of  the  name  of  Macleod  in  Dalkeith." 


To  Mr.  James  M'Pherson,  Loudoun  : — 

Dalkeith,  Junv  30th,  1847. 

"  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  separated  from  my  beloved, 
tenderly,  deeply  beloved  flock,  who  have  either  left  Lou- 
doun for  Heaven,  or  left  the  Establishment  for  another 
branch  of  Christ's  visible  Church.  I  feel  we  are  united  by 
bonds  far  closer  than  we  understand  ;  bonds  which  Christ 
has  cast  around  us,  which  He  w-ill  lovingly  keep  around 
us,  and  which  He  will  not  let  the  world  or  ourselves  sever. 
And  oh  !  how  I  long  for  His  coming ;  when  we  shall  all  be 
tojrether  acfain  ;  when  we  shall  know  even  as  ^Ye  are  known, 
and  be  for  ever  with  Himself! " 


EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE.  265 

From  lis  Journal  : — 

*'  July  4,  '47. — I  never  felt  more  overwhelmed  by  work 
than  during  the  five  weeks  which  preceded  my  Communion. 
I  was  concerned  for  the  Assembly,  that  it  should  do  God's 
will.  I  was  convener  of  the  committee  appointed  to  select 
and  send  off  a  deputation  to  the  Colonies,  which  are  ever 
present  to  me.  I  had  public  sermons  to  preach  in  Glasgow 
and  Edinburgh.  I  had  to  speak  the  truth,  and  fitting 
truth,  at  the  Lay  Association  and  Female  Education  Meet- 
ings. The  Evangelical  Alliance  was  coming.  I  was  to 
speak  there.  Then  there  were  preparations  for  the  Com- 
munion, and  a  great  deal  of  sickness  in  the  parish.  At 
home,  my  own  dear  brother,  George,  was  ill,  and  my 
mother  and  I  going,  in  thought,  to  the  graves  at  Campsie. 
In  short,  I  never  had  such  a  pressure  upon  me.  I  could 
have  wished  to  bury  my  head  in  the  grave. 

"To  add  to  this,  on  the  Wednesday  before  my  Com- 
munion, ten  minutes  after  leaving  our  Session  meeting, 
good  Mr.  Bertram,  my  elder,  fell  down  dead !  It  was, 
indeed,  a  very  trying  time  ;  yet  I  had  much  inward  peace. 
I  felt  as  if  outside  of  the  house  there  were  wind  and  storm, 
which  beat  into  the  ante-chambers  ;  but  that  tliere  was 
within  a  sanctuary  which  they  did  not  and  could  not  reach. 
I  experienced  a  strange  combination  of  great  trouble  and 
perfect  peace.  And  how  graciously  has  Gqd  brought  me 
through  all !  The  Assembly  was  very  good  ;  its  debates 
calm  and  truthful,  its  decisions,  as  far  as  I  can  see,  just  and 
righteous.  The  deputation  to  America  was  selected  after 
much  correspondence.  I  am  since  vindicated  for  having 
proposed  and  carried  their  appointment.  They  have 
received  an  enthusiastic  welcome,  and  they  themselves 
acknowledge  that  their  mission  was  needed.  My  public 
sermons  were  well  received,  and  I  hope  did  good.  I  spoke 
as  I  wished,  i.e.  the  truth  Avhich  I  desired  to  communicate 
to  the  Lay  Association,  and  at  the  meetings  for  Female 
Education  in  India,  and  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  I  was, 
at  home,  able  to  strengthen  and  comfort  dear  Mrs.  Bertram. 
I  never  had  a  more  peaceful  and  delightful  Communion. 
My  dear  George  is  recovering.      Oh,  how  my  prayers  have 


i66  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

been  answered  Thou,  God,  knowest  !  I  have  passed  through 
all  this  in  poaeo.  I  thank  God.  For  I  do  feel  that  His 
supporting  grace  can  alone  enable  one  to  meet  the  sorrowing 
burden  of  humanity.  The  flesh  would  say,  fly,  hide  thy- 
self, partake  not  of  those  cares  and  troubles.  But  this  is 
not  the  voice  of  the  Spirit.  The  Spirit  of  Jesus  would 
have  us  carry  the  care,  and  the  anxiety,  and  the  sorrow  of 
the  world,  all  the  while  giving  us  His  peace — that  peace 
which  He  had  even  when  He  wept  at  l^ethany  and  over 
Jerusalem,  and  went  about  doing  good,  and  mourned  for 
unbelief. 

"  Faith  in  an  eternal  life  with  God,  must,  I  think,  arise 
necessarily  out  of  love  to  Him  here.  Did  I  only  know 
that  David  lovod  God,  I  would,  without  further  evidence, 
believe  that  he  had  full  assurance  of  life  beyond  the  grave." 

"  To  me  the  greatest  mystery  next  to  the  mystery  of  God's 
will  is  my  own  !  It  is  of  all  truths  the  most  solemn  to  re- 
cognise the  possession  of  a  responsible  will — which  because 
it  is  a  will  can  choose,  and  because  of  sin  does  choose,  what 
is  opposed  to  the  will  of  God. 

"  The  existence  and  influence  of  Satan  are  not  more  mys- 
terious than  the  existeiice  and  influence  of  bad  men.  Evil 
is  the  mystery — not  evil  agents  and  evil  influence.  Con- 
sidering all  things,  perhaps,  a  Demoniac  in  the  synagogue, 
a  wicked  Judas  in  the  Church,  is  a  greater  mystery  than 
Satan. 

"  The  great  difference  between  the  law  and  the  gospel  is, 
that  the  latter  brings  a  power  into  operation  for  producing 
that  \-'vA\t  state   of   mind — love   to   God — which   the   law 

O 

commands  but  cannot  effect. 

"  Christ  is  the  living  way,  the  eternal  life,  as  He  gives  to 
us  His  own  life  and  Spirit.  To  be  as  He  was  is  the  only 
way  to  the  Father. 

"  God  is  surely  revealing  Himself  to  all  His  creatures. 
I  cannot  think  that  there  is  even  a  Bushman  in  Africa 
with  whose  spirit  the  living  God  is  not  dealing.  The 
voice  of  God  is  speaking  though  they  may  not  hear  it  ; 
yet  they  may  hear  it,  and  so  hear  it  as  to  know  the  living 
and  true  (Jod. 


EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE.  267 

"  St.  Paul  said  that  God  had  appointed  the  hounds  of 
men's  hahitations  that  they  might  seek  after  Him.  This 
imphes  that  to  find  Him  was  possihle. 

"  I  will  never  agree  to  the  sensuous  philosophy  which 
insists  on  all  teaching  coming  through  materialism.  Edu- 
cation is  to  lead  out,  to  draw  out,  what  I  may  already 
possess. 

"  God  has  made  us  for  joy  !  Joy  is  the  normal  state  of 
the  universe.  This  only  makes  Christ's  sorrow  more  terrible. 
Man's  joy  and  God's  joy  must  be  one.  '  Ye  shall  be  as 
gods.'      Yes  ;  but  not  by  the  Devil's  teaching. 

"  What  dreadful  suffering  must  Christ  have  endured 
from  want  of  human  sympathy !  How  alienated  is  man 
from  God,  when  Peter  and  the  apostles  were  so  alienated 
from  Christ.  '  I  am  not  alone,  for  the  Father  is  with  me,' 
but  none  else  ! " 


The  movement  in  favour  of  a  reformed  Church, 
inaugurated  in  Poland  by  Eoiige  and  Czersky,  was 
at  this  time  awakening  much  interest  among  Pro- 
testants. Both  Eonge  and  Czersky  had  been  ])resent 
at  a  meeting  of  the  Alliance,  and  as  some  members  of 
that  body  were  anxious  to  obtain  reliable  information 
on  the  subject,  Norman  Macleod  was  asked  to  accom- 
pany the  late  Dr.  Herschell  of  London  on  a  visit  to 
the  principal  congregations  of  the  new  communion. 


NOTES    OF    A  VISIT    TO    PRUSSIAN    POLAND    AND    SILESIA 
IN    AUGUST,     1847. 
To  his  Father  : — 

"  During  my  short  stay  abroad  I  intend  to  address  all 
my  letters  to  you,  in  the  hope  that  the}^  may  contain 
something  interesting,  which  may,  perhaps,  induce  you  to 
bear  with  that  peculiar  hieroglyphical  character  which  I 
generally  use  in  writing,  and  which,  through  your  excellent 
example,  I  have  studied  from  my  earliest  infancy.      I  must 


«68  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

begin  at  the  beginning — whether  or  not  I  shall  continne 
to  the  end  is  another  question. 

"  At  York  we  visited  the  Castle  and  all  its  horrors — saw 
old  and  young  confined  in  stone  courts,  hard  stone  under 
foot,  hard  stone  on  every  side,  stone  and  iron  surrounding 
them  during  the  day  and  night,  and  we  in  sunshine  and 
breeze,  with  joy  above  and  around  us.  Saw  the  condemned 
cell,  with  its  iron  bed  and  cold  walls,  the  only  view  being 
through  thick  bars,  upon  a  small  green  spot  with  rank 
grass,  surrounded  by  walls,  wher'3  the  wretched  occupant 
must  be  laid  on  the  day  of  his  execution,  along  with  tho.se 
who  have  gone  before  him  to  the  same  sad  spot.  A 
burying-place  which  contains  the  bodies  of  those  only  who 
have  been  executed  is  a  sad  and  solemn  sight. 

"  From  this  we  passed  to  the  Minster  once  more.  And 
what  a  change  from  the  cell  and  the  graveyard,  and  the 
cut-throat  Museum,  to  that  gorgeous  pile  of  pinnacle  and 
tower,  with  its  long-drawn  aisles  and  stained  windows, 
'red  with  the  blood  of  kings  and  queens,'  and  quaiut  de- 
vice and  carved  imagery,  and  full  of  gku-ious  an'hems  and 
chanted  prayers  !  A  very  shadow,  I  thought,  of  that  state 
of  grandeur  and  glory  into  which  the  gospel  brings  us — 
out  of  the  horrid  prison  and  condeumed  cell,  and  grave- 
yard without  hope." 

"  I  pass  over  the  many  interesting  conversations  held 
in  Berlin  with  Neander,  Uhden,  Kiintze. 

"  We  obtained,  however,  little  information  from  them 
regarding  the  present  state  of  the  Beform  movement.  All 
parties  seemed  indifferent  to  it.  Ail  parties  rejected  Bonj^e. 
Sydow  called  him  '  ein  ausgehlusener  Narr'  and  despised 
both  the  man  and  his  opinions,  and  considered  them  only 
a  little  better  than  Popery. 

"  Saturday  morning  we  posted  sixty-two  miles,  to  Schnei- 
demiihl,  where  we  arrived  the  sanie  evening  about  eight 
o'clock.      We  found  Czersky  waiting  for  us. 

"  Upon  Sabbath  morning,  at  ten,  we  went  to  his  church. 
As  we  entered  the  people  were  singing  one  of  Luther's 
hyums,  witli — us  is  usual  ia  Gortnat:  (_-nurelies--loud  aiul 
harmonious  voices,  led  bv  an  organ   and  a  tolerably  good 


EVANGELICAL   ALLIANCE.  2O9 

choir.  About  120  were  present.  The  passages  and  all 
round  the  altar  were  strewed  with  flowers,  which  we 
learned  afterwards  Avas  a  token  of  o^ladness  at  seeino-  us 
amoncfst  them. 

"  When  the  psalm  was  nearly  concluded  Czersky  entered. 
He  was  dressed  in  priest's  garments  ;  in  a  long  black  cloth 
gown,  which  came  down  to  his  toes  and  was  buttoned  in 
front,  and  over  this  a  jacket  of  white  muslin  beautifully 
worked,  with  wide  sleeves,  and  coming  down  to  his  waist. 
He  knelt  and  prayed  in  silence  before  the  crucifix,  and 
then  preached. 

"  We  held  a  conference  with  the  elders  at  Czersky's 
house,  in  the  morning.  About  twelve  were  present.  The 
chief  objects  of  the  meeting  were  to  ascertain  their  state 
of  mind  towards  Czersky,  and  above  all  to  exhort  them 
upon  certain  points  which,  we  believed,  required  the 
advice  of  neutral  parties  in  whose  good-will  perfect  con- 
fidence could  be  placed.  Mr.  Herschell  and  I  spoke  our 
minds  fully. 

"Though  our  conference  lasted  nearly  two  hours,  we  were 
listened  to  throughout  with  the  utmost  patience.  Not  a 
Avord  Avas  spoken  unless  we  asked  a  reply.  When  these 
replies  Avere  given,  Czersky  seemed  anxious  that  we  should 
hear  the  opinions  of  his  elders  as  AA^ell  as  his  OAvn.  These 
opinions  Avere  most  satisfactory.  From  this  meeting,  and 
from  a  pri\'ate  conversation  Avhich  I  had  with  Czersky 
during  a  short  Avalk  in  the  fields  on  Sabbath,  as  Avell  as  from 
familiar  intercourse  Avith  him  on  the  folloAving  days,  I  am 
convinced  that  there  is  perfect  confidence  placed  in  him  by 
his  people,  and  that  he  is  a  most  simple-hearted,  sincere 
man.  Though  he  will  never  be  a  great  leader,  he  will 
prove  a  true  witness  ;  and  if  he  cannot  attack,  he  certainly 
will  resist  error.  After  the  meeting  Ave  remained  and  took 
tea  Avith  himself  and  his  wife.  We  Avere  much  struck  Avith 
the  humble  and  poor  house  in  Avhich  he  lives.  Everything 
indicated  a  man  aa'Iio  had  not  at  least  made  money  by  his 
change. 

"  Our  Sabbath  CA'ening's  AA'ork  aa^is  closed  by  a  call  upon 
the  old  Lutheran  minister,  Avho  Avas  just  retiring  to  rest. 
He  received  us  very  kindly,  was  frank  and  full  of  good 


2  70  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

luunour  ;  and  while  he  deplored  the  number  of  churches  in 
the  town  instead  of  one  (his  own),  he  bore  tlie  strongist 
testimony  to  Czersky,  declaring  him  to  be,  in  his  o})iniou, 
a  simple,  honourable,  upright,  pious  man.  This  was  most 
satisfactory. 

"  Having  determined  to  take  Czersky  Avith  us  to  Posen, 
we  all  met  next  morning  in  the  hotel,  and  were  early  on 
our  way,  by  courier  post  with  four  horses.  We  had  a 
journey  of  sixty  miles  before  us.  The  day  was  scorch- 
ing. Our  road  lay  along  fiat  plains  or  through  forests,  and 
poor  Polish  villages.  It  was  so  sandy  and  rough  that 
we  could  not  make  sometimes  more  than  six  miles  an 
hour.  The  whole  of  this  day's  journey  reminded  me  of 
America,  more  especially  when  our  road  lay  through  the 
forest. 

"  Post  is,  in  many  respects,  an  abler  man  than  Czersky. 
He  is  an  able  speaker,  has  read  and  thought  much,  and 
is  as  firm  a  believer  in  positive  Christianity  as  Czerskj'-. 
Family  worship  is  common  among  his  people.  His  con- 
gregation numbers  about  740,  old  and  young. 

"  The  results  of  our  inquiries  into  this  movement  in 
Poland  may  thus  be  summed  up  : — 

"  1.  Numbers  :  There  are  fifteen  Christian  Catholic  con- 
gregations in  Poland,  each  numbering  upon  an  average 
300  souls,  old  and  young.  The  numbers  in  four  principal 
stations  are,  respectively,  Posen  745,  Schneidemiihl  400, 
Bromberg  GOO,  Thorn  400.  Post  has  sometimes  1000  in 
summer. 

"  2.  All  the  clergy  in  Poland  are  for  positive  Chris- 
tianity, and  will  have  nothing  to  do  with  Ronge. 

"  3.  They  are  not  yet  united,  but  wish  to  form  a  Pres- 
bytery. 

"  4.  This  movement  should  be  helped  and  strengthened. 
The  people  and  ministers  are  poor.  They  could  get  on 
better  by  joining  the  Established  Church;  but  they  desire 
church  freedom,  and  they  think  that  they  are  in  a  better 
position  to  act  as  a  Mission,  having  reference  to  the  Church 
of  Rome,  than  if  they  were  to  become  absorbed  in  the 
State  Church. 

"  We  left  Posen  on  Thursday  morning,  and   slept  that 


EVANGELICAL   ALLIANCE.  271 

night  at  Lissa,  half  way  to  Breslaii.      We  reached  Breslau 
in  the  evening  of  Friday. 

"  We  determined  to  drive  out  next  day  to  Hlinen,  to  see 
Dr.  Theiner,  whom  all  parties  acknowledge  to  be  the  most 
learned  and  able  man  connected  with  this  movement.  He 
was  out  walking  when  we  arrived.  His  old  servant,  how- 
ever, went  for  him,  while  we  sat  beneatli  the  shade  of  some 
orantje-trees  in  the  little  flower-garden. 

"  By-and-by  we  saw  approaching,  with  quick  steps,  a 
man  of  the  ordinary  size,  upwards  of  fifty,  with  a  long 
German  surtout,  a  cap  with  large  scoop,  spectacles,  and  his 
long  hair,  sprinkled  with  grey,  flowing  behind.  He  ushered 
us  into  a  large  room,  which,  in  its  thorough  confusion, 
reminded  us  of  Neander's — chairs  and  tables,  covered  with 
books,  and  the  whole  room  as  if  it  was  the  temporary 
receptacle  for  a  library  hastily  carried  into  it,  along  with 
some  furniture,  during  a  fire.  The  first  look  of  Theiner 
filled  me  with  confidence  and  affection  ;  the  large  manly 
brow,  the  twinkling  black  eyes  and  gentle  smile,  every 
feature  expressive  of  eagerness,  thought,  tenderness,  and 
sim[)licity.  He  gave  us  his  ojjinions  fully  and  frankly.  He 
spoke  of  Ronge  with  unmeasured  terms  of  contem[)t  as 
'  ein  nicJd  luiirdiges  elendes  Geschopf.'  He  spoke  of  Czersky 
and  Post  with  the  greatest  respect,  declaring  his  conviction 
that  they  were  honest  men.  His  own  position  now  was 
one  of  literary  activity. 

"  In  the  eveninsr  of  Sabbath  I  heard  Ronge.  After 
reading  a  few  cold,  formal  prayers,  he  commenced  liis 
sermon.  His  delivery  is  lifeless,  without  fire  in  eye  or 
action  ;  hesitating,  uninteresting.  One  was  puzzled  more 
and  more  to  discover  what  the  elements  were  in  this  man 
which  could  rouse  the  populace. 

"  I  expected  to  have  met  Ronge  according  to  appoint- 
ment in  the  evening,  but  he  sent  an  apology  by  his 
friend.  Dr.  Beuscli,  with  whom  we  had  a  very  long  con- 
versation and  dispute.  His  opinions,  like  those  of 
Ronge,  are  ultra-rationalistic — or  rather,  pantheistic  ; 
and  it  was  hardly  possible  to  get  a  common  standing 
ground.  The  whole  system  seemed  to  be  a  mixture 
of  socialism  and  Deism  gilded  with  the  morality  of  the 


i]z  [JFE  UF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

J>il)le,   and    having    a    strong    political    tendency   towards 
counuunism. 

"  Such  is  Ronge-isni.  It  is  bad,  but  wlio  is  to  blame  ? 
P()[)ery  first.  It  is  evident  that  the  whole  of  this  false 
system  is  a  reaction  from  Popery  ;  that  it  has  been  moulded 
into  its  present  form  in  the  conscious  presence  of  Popery. 
The  materialism  of  the  one  has  given  birth  to  the  anti- 
symbolical  and  attempted  s|)iritualism  of  tlie  t)ther.  What 
the  result  is  to  be  no  one  can  tell.  It  cannot  stand  as  it 
is.  It  must  advance  to  Quakerism  and  Spiritual  Pietism, 
and  end  in  Socialism,  or  its  serious  people  be  absorbed  in 
a  deeper  and  more  evangelical  movement.  There  does  not 
appear  to  be  connected  with  this  2>art  of  the  movement  one 
man  capable  of  giving  it  a  good  direction.  One  has  only 
to  hope  that  the  Bible  and  hymn-book  may  help  to  save 
some  of  the  poor  people,  who,  I  doubt  not,  are  better  than 
their  ministers. 

"  I  have  now,  within  two  years,  seen  the  practical  work- 
ing of  various  Churches,  and  come  into  contact  with  the 
clergy  of  various  denominations.  I  have  seen  the  war  of 
weak  sects  in  the  backwoods  and  lonely  settlements  of  the 
Colonies,  and  voluntaryism  in  its  poverty  and  in  its 
grandeur  in  the  United  States.  I  have  Avatched  well  the 
temper  jind  tendency  of  the  Free  Church  in  Scotland, 
especially  in  the  Highlands.  I  have  met  in  the  freest  and 
most  friendly  communion,  for  days  together,  the  Dissenters 
of  England  at  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  I  have  examined 
the  workings  of  Episcopacy  during  a  year's  residence  in 
England.  I  have  seen  Popery  in  every  part  of  Germany 
from  Vienna  to  Berlin,  in  France  and  Belgium,  Ireland  and 
America.  I  have  examined  into  the  German  Church,  and 
the  result  of  all  has  been  to  deepen  my  attachment  to  my 
own  Church — to  fill  me  with  unfeigned  gratiude  to  God  for 
the  Protestant  Evangelical  Presbyterian  Established  Church 
of  Scotland.  It  is  Protestant,  without  an}'  toleration  of 
Popish  error  within  its  bosom.  It  is  Evangelical,  and 
e(jually  removed  from  formal  orthodoxy,  or  canting 
metluxlism,  or  icy  rationalism.  It  is  Presbyterian,  and 
in  possession  of  a  free  and  vigorous  government  which 
occupies  a  middle  point  between   the  power  of  one  bishop 


EVANGELICAL  ALLIANCE.  273 

or  of  one  congregation.  It  is  Established,  and  so  not 
dependent  for  its  support  on  the  people,  while,  for  the 
discharge  of  all  the  functions  of  a  Christian  Church,  inde- 
pendent of  civil  government  by  virtue  of  her  constitution. 
What  want  we  then  ?  Nothing  but  the  power  of  the  living 
Spirit  of  God,  to  enable  ministers,  elders,  and  people  to  use 
the  high  talents  God  has  given  us  for  the  good  of  Scotland, 
of  the  Christian  Church,  and  all  to  the  glory  of  God.  '  If  I 
forget  thee,  Oh  Jerusalem,  may  my  right  hand  forget  her 
cunning  1  * " 


A 


CHArTEI^  XII 

I.AST   YEARS   AT   DALKEITH. 

1848—1851. 

S  this  Chapter  must  embrace  the  close  of  hia 
ministry  in  Dalkeith,  it  affords  a  fitting  occa- 
sion for  forming  an  estimate  of  the  influences  which 
then  affected  his  views  and  character.  It  was  a  time 
of  mental  growth  more  than  of  literary  or  public 
work.  He  had  more  leisure  for  study  than  he  ever 
afterwards  possessed.  His  travels  in  America  and 
on  the  Continent,  and  his  intercourse  with  represen- 
tatives of  almost  every  variety  of  Church,  had  enlarged 
his  sympathies,  and  given  him  a  living  grasp  of  the 
questions  at  that  time  affecting  Christendom.  His 
spiritual  life  also,  chiefly  from  the  care  with  which 
he  cultivated  devout  habits,  became  higher  and  more 
even  in  tone. 

The  two  men  who  had  most  influence  on  his 
opinions  were  Thomas  Arnold,  and  his  own  relative, 
John  Macleod  Campbell.  Arnold's  Life  had  just  been 
published,  and  the  manliness,  the  healthy  common 
sense,  the  unswerving  truthfulness  and  Christian  faith- 
fulness of  the  grent  Head  Master  of  Eiigby,  touched 
him  profoundly  ;  while  the  struggle  which  the  book 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  275 

recounted  against  the  sacerdotal  pretensions  of  the 
'  Young  Oxford '  .school,  on  the  one  hand,  and  against 
the  narrower  section  of  the  '  Evangelicals,'  on  the 
other,  had  m(>re  than  a  historical  interest  for  him ;  for 
these  two  extremes,  under  different  outward  forms, 
were  equally  loud-voiced  in  Scotland,  and  in  Arnold's 
w^ritings  he  found  a  copious  armoury  for  the  defence 
of  his  own  position  at  home. 

John  Macleod  Campbell  was  in  many  respects  a 
contrast  to  Arnold.  If  the  latter  was  clear  and 
trenchant,  the  former  was  meditative,  abstract,  pro- 
iound,  almost  to  obscurity.  Even  when  Norman  was 
a  student,  Campbell  used  to  have  long  and  earnest 
conversations  with  him  in  his  lodgings.  He  was 
then  Minister  of  Eow,  and  involved  in  those  contro- 
versies which  issued  in  his  lamented  deposition — an 
act  almost  barbarous  in  its  intolerance,  and  by  which 
the  Church  deprived  herself  of  one  of  the  greatest 
theological  minds,  as  well  as  one  of  the  holiest  char- 
acters she  ever  possessed.  The  intimacy  between  the 
two  cousins  had  of  late  years  become  closer,  and  it 
continued  to  deepen  to  the  last  hour  of  their  lives. 
Campbell  had  a  greater  influence  on  Norman's  views 
than  any  other  theologian  living  or  dead,  and  was 
reverenced  by  him  as  being  the  most  heavenly-minded 
man  he  ever  knew.  There  was  no  one  at  whose  feet 
lie  was  more  willing  to  sit  and  learn.  Campbell's 
influence  was  not,  however,  so  positive  and  direct  then 
as  it  afterwards  became.  His  great  work  on  the 
Atonement  w^as  not  yet  published.  A  little  book, 
called  '  Fragments  of  Exposition,'  written  partly  by 
him  and  partly  by  his  friend,  the  late  thougLtful  and 


276  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

anc'oniplished  Prnfe^sor  Scott,  of  ]\ranfTiestcr,  was  the 
chief  contiibiition  (Jainpholl  had  as  yet  made  to  the 
th  'oh)«^y  of  the  day.  But  liis  conversation  was  rich 
in  suL'^estivc  ideas,  which  had  a  great  effect  in 
determining  the  tendency  of  Norman's  theology. 

There  was  one  style  of  teaching  which  was  especi- 
ally characteristic  of  his  later  ministry  in  Dalkeith, 
and  of  his  earlier  time  in  the  Barony.  lie  felt  that 
the  metaphysical  and  doctrinal  preaching  which  was 
still  prevalent  in  Scotland,  had  led  men  to  deal 
with  abstractions,  ideas,  names,  rather  than  with  the 
living  God ;  and  so  he  tiicd  to  produce  a  greater 
sense  of  the  personal  relationship  of  t'le  Fatlier,  Son, 
and  Spirit.  The  dealings  of  an  earthly  lather  with 
his  child  were  continually  used  to  illustrate  what 
the  Heavenly  Father  must,  in  a  far  higher  sense,  feci 
and  do  ;  and  he  evermore  pressed  his  hearers  to  enter- 
tain the  same  trust  and  confidence  towards  Christ,  as 
would  have  been  proper  and  natural  had  He  been 
present  in  the  flesh.  Such  tender  thou*T:hts  of  the 
Fatlier  and  the  Son  found  fullest  expression  in  his 
prayers,  which,  while  most  reverent,  were  so  real  that 
they  sounded  as  if  spoken  to  One  visibly  present. 
Their  perfect  simplicity  never  degenerated  into  famili- 
arity. Their  dir^ullr  wrji  %'  -^'tnarkable  as  their 
directness.  These  views  had  also  a  marked  influence 
on  his  character.  What  the  Personal  Christ  must  love 
or  hate  became  the  one  rule  of  life.  This  divine  lovo 
inspired  a  deep  '  enthusiasm  of  liumanit)\'  He  seemed 
to  yearn  over  men  in  the  very  spirit  of  Christ — so 
patient,  considerate,  and  earnest,  was  he,  in  seeking 
their  good. 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  277 

His  sermons  at  this  time  conveyed  the  impression 
of  greater  elaboration  than  those  of  his  later  years. 
One  remarkable  characteristic  was  the  restraint  he 
put  on  the  descriptive  faculty  with  which  he  was  so 
richly  endowed.  He  could  very  easily  have  produced 
great  popular  effect  by  indulging  in  pictorial  illustra- 
tion, but  he  held  this  in  strict  subordination  to  the 
one  purpose  of  impressing  the  conscience ;  and  even 
then,  the  touches  of  imagination  or  of  pathos,  which 
so  often  thrilled  his  audience,  were  commonly  limited 
to  a  sentence,  or  a  phrase. 

There  were  other  men,  besides  A  mold  and  Camp- 
bell, who  more  or  less  influenced  his  views  at  this 
time.  There  was  Struthers,  the  author  of  '  The  Sab- 
bath ' — a  rare  specimen  of  the  old  Scotch  Covenanter, 
stern  but  tender,  of  keen  intellect  and  unbending  prin- 
ciple, and  full  of  contempt  for  the  nineteenth  century. 
Norman  took  great  delight  in  exciting  Struthers  to 
talk  on  some  congenial  theme,  to  describe,  with  shrill 
voice  and  pithy  Scotch,  the  good  old  days,  to  denounce 
with  indignation  the  degeneracies  and  backslidings  of 
modern  times,  to  anathematize  Voluntaryism  as  prac- 
tical Atheism,  and  declare  Sabbath  schools  '  the  greatest 
curse  the  Almighty  ever  sent  to  this  covenanted  land 
— undermining  family  life  and  destroying  the  parental 
tie.'  If  there  was  exaggeration,  there  was  also  good 
sense  in  many  of  Struthers' s  reflections,  especially  as 
to  the  past  and  present  of  the  working  classes.  He 
had  been  himself  an  operative  for  many  years,  and  his 
remarks  on.  questions  affecting  the  working  classes 
were  not  lost  on  his  hearer.  In  contrast  to  Struthers 
there  was  John  Campbell  Shairp,  now  the  well-known 


27«  LIFE  OF  GORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Principal  of  St.  Andrew's,  who,  recently  returned  from 
Oxford,  and  full  of  enthusiastic  memories  of  the  men 
and  the  opinions  then  influencing  the  finer  minds  of 
the  University,  made  Norman  feel  as  if  he  had  per- 
sonally known  Newman,  Stanley,  Jowett  and  Clough. 
Shairp,  with  his  keen  sympathetic  temperament,  was, 
moreover,  so  saturated  with  many  of  the  new  views, 
and  so  earnest  in  his  search  after  truth,  that  he  stimu- 
lated his  friend  to  study  many  subjects  in  which 
he  would  otherwise  have  taken  little  interest.  John 
Mackintosh  also,  his  deep-souled  and  dearest  friend, 
then  preparing,  after  his  Cambridge  career,  for  the 
ministry  of  the  Free  Church,  was  a  frequent  visitor 
at  the  Manse,  and  by  his  conversation,  as  well  as  by 
his  letters  when  travelling  in  Italy  and  Germany, 
inspired  the  very  atmosphere  of  poetry  and  literature 
'N^  liicli  he  was  himself  breathing. 

To  this  list  the  name  of  another  must  be  added, 
who  touched  more  closely  on  his  life  as  a  minister 
of  the  Church  of  Scotland.  Ever  since  the  Dis- 
ruption Norman  had  mourned  the  deadness  of  the 
Church,  and  deplored  the  lack  of  men  fit  to  guide  its 
councils  or  quicken  its  life ;  but  in  Professor  James 
Eobertson,  he  found  one  who  had  both  head  and  heart 
to  be  a  Church  leader.  With  a  keen  intellect,  great 
power  as  a  debater,  and  a  singular  grasp  of  principles 
—  an  enthusiast  in  philosophy  as  in  theology — he 
was,  withal,  simple  as  a  child  towards  God,  true  and 
loving  towards  man,  and  heroic  in  the  self-sacrificing 
devotion  with  which  he  laboured  for  the  Christian 
welfare  of  his  country.  lie  was  a  patriot  more  than  a 
churchman;  and,  in  supporting  him,  Norman  felt  he 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  279 

was  following  no  r.aiTnw  ecclesiastic,  but  one  who 
had  regard  to  the  good  of  the  nation  as  the  grand  aim 
of  a  National  Church,  and  whose  warm  heart  beat  with 
a  courageous  and  generous  faith.  Robertson  was  just 
beginning  his  appeal  to  the  Church  and  country  for 
the  endowment  of  150  parishes.  His  aim  seemed 
Utopian  to  the  timid  minds  of  many,  who  could  not 
believe  that  the  Church,  so  recently  shattered,  could  be 
roused  to  the  accomplishment  of  such  a  work ;  but  to 
others,  the  boldness  of  the  proposal  was  one  of  its 
chief  recommendations.  Norman  and  he  became 
attached  friends.  Long  were  the  hours  of  friendly 
discussion  they  enjoyed,  lasting  far  into  night,  when 
the  conversation  would  range  from  criticism  of  Fichte, 
of  whose  philosophy  Robertson  was  an  enthusiastic 
admirer,  to  questions  of  expediency  touching  some 
'  overture '  to  the  Assembly.  Robertson  was  the  only 
man  Norman  ever  regarded  as  his  ecclesiastical  leader. 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  What  precise  relation  does  revelation  without,  bear  to 
revelation  within — the  book  to  the  conscience  ? 

"  Is  anything  a  revelation  to  me  which  is  not  actually  a 
revealing — a  making  known  to  me,  or,  in  other  words, 
Avhich  is  not  lecognised  as  true  by  me? 

"  Do  I  believe  any  spiritual  truth  in  the  Book,  except  in 
so  far  as  I  see  it  to  be  true  in  conscience  and  reason  ?  Is 
my  faith  in  the  outward  revelation  not  in  exact  proportion 
to  my  inward  perception  of  the  truth  uttered  in  the  letter  ? 

"  Wherein  lies  the  difference  between  assenting  to  the 
Principia  of  Newton,  because  written  by  a  great  mathema- 
tician and  not  because  I  see  them  to  be  true,  and  my 
assenting  to  the  Bible,  because  written  by  inspired  men 
and  not  because  I  see  how  truly  they  spoke  ? 


28o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD, 

*'  Whether  do  I  honour  Newton  more  by  examining, 
sifting,  and  seeing  for  myself  the  truth  of  his  propositions, 
or  by  merely  tiiking  them  on  his  word  ? 

"  Can  anv  revelation  coming  from  without,  be  so  strong 
as  a  revelation  from  spirit  to  sjtirit  ?  Could  any  amount  of 
outward  authority  be  morally  sufficient  to  make  me  hate  a 
friend,  or  do  any  action  I  felt  to  be  morally  wrong  whil« 
a[)prehending  it  to  be  wrong  ?  It  might  correct  me  as  to 
facts  which  depend  entirely  upon  testimony  and  not  upon 
spiritual  truth. 

"...  I  have  just  received  some  merry  thoughts  from 
a  l)lu6-bell,  which  out  of  gratitude  I  record. 

"  How  lono-  has  that  bell  been  ringing  its  fragrant  music, 
and  swinging  forth  its  unheard  melodies  among  brackens 
and  briars,  and  })riraroses  and  woodroof,  and  that  Avorld  of 
poetic  wild  scents  and  forms — so  many — so  beautiful — 
which  a  tangled  bank  over  a  trotting  burn  among  the  leafy 
woods  discloses  ?  Spirits  more  beautiful  than  fairies  behold 
those  scenes,  or  they  would  be  waste.  That  bell  was  ring- 
ing merrily  in  the  breeze  when  Adam  and  Eve  were  mar- 
ried. It  chimed  its  dirge  over  Abel,  and  has  died  and 
sprung  up  again  while  Nineveh  and  Babylon  have  come  and 
gone,  and  empires  have  lived  and  died  for  ever  !  Solomon, 
in  all  his  glory,  was  not  like  thee. 

'•What  an  evidence  have  I  in  this  blue  drooping  flower,  of 
the  regularit}'^  and  endurance  of  God's  will  since  creation's 
dawn  !  Amidst  all  revolutions  of  heaven  and  earth  ;  hur- 
ricanes and  earthquakes  ;  floods  and  fires  ;  invasions  and 
dispersions  ;  signs  in  the  sun,  moon,  and  stars  ;  perplexity 
and  distress  of  nations  ;  nothing  has  happened  to  injure 
this  fragile  blue-bell.  It  has  been  preserved  throughout  all 
generations.  The  forces  of  this  stormy  and  troubled  earth, 
which  have  rent  rocks,  have  been  so  beautifully  adjusted 
from  age  to  age,  that  this  head,  though  drooping,  has  not 
been  broken,  and  this  stalk,  though  frail,  still  stands  erect. 
This  is  '  central  peace  subsisting  at  the  heart  of  endless 
agitation.' 

"  The  blue-bell  swung  in  breezes  tempered  to  its  strength 
centrries  before  the  children  of  Japheth  spied  the  clialky 
cliffs  of  Dover.      It  has  been  called  by  many  a  name  from 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  281 

the  days  of  the  painted  warrior  to  the  days  of  Burns  ;  but 
it  has  ever  been  the  same.  It  will  sing  on  with  its  own 
woodland  music  to  all  who  can  hear  its  spirit  song,  until 
time  shall  be  no  more.  The  blue-bell  may  sing  the  funeral 
knell  of  the  human  race. 

"  If  there  be  no  enduring  spirit  in  man,  no  flowers  of 
immortality  more  lasting  than  the  flowers  of  earth,  verily 
all  flesh  is  more  worthless  than  grass. 

"  April. — It  is  curious  to  compare  old  and  new  maps, 
and  to  mark  the  progress  of  discovery.  The  blank  space 
of  ocean  is  followed  by  a  faint  outline  of  a  few  miles  of 
coast,  marking  the  termination  of  an  intrepid  voyager. 
Then  further  portions  of  the  same  coast  are  laid  down  at 
intervals  as  supposed  islands.  Then,  by-and-by,  those 
portions  are  connected,  and  the  outline  of  a  great  conti- 
nent begins  to  be  developed.  The  '  undiscovered  '  passes 
to  the  reofion  of  the  known  and  familiar.  Then  follow  the 
exploring  of  bays,  the  tracing  of  rivers,  and  the  inland  dis- 
coveries of  mountain,  plain,  wood  and  pasturage,  until  at 
last  we  have  an  Australia  mapped  into  settlements,  dotted 
with  towns  and  villages,  divided  into  bishojmcs  and  parishes, 
inhabited  by  old  friends  as  prosperous  emigrants,  issuing  its 
newspapers,  and  becoming  an  important  member  of  the  great 
family  of  man.  Thus  is  it  with  the  Bible.  What  progress 
is  beingr  made  in  the  discoverv  of  its  meaning  !  How  much 
better  acquainted  is  the  Church  of  Christ  now  with  its 
sjDirit,  its  allusions,  its  inner  and  outer  history,  than  the 
same  Church  during  any  former  period  !  What  a  far  more 
true  and  just  idea  of  the  mind  of  Christ,  as  manifested  in 
and  by  the  Apostolic  Church,  have  we  now  than  the  Church 
of  the  fourth  and  fifth  centuries  possessed  ?  Distance  has 
increased  the  magnitude,  extent,  the  totality  and  grandeur 
in  the  heaven-kissing  mountain  range.  Individually,  I 
find  in  daily  study  of  the  Bible,  a  daily  discovery.  What 
was  formerly  unknown  becomes  known,  and  what  seemed 
a  solitary  coast  becomes  part  of  a  great  whole,  and  what 
seemed  wild,  and  strange,  and  lonely,  becomes  to  me  green 
pasture  and  refreshing  water — the  abode  of  my  fireside 
atl'ections.  And  surely  I  shall  read  the  Bible  as  an  alphabet 
in  Heaven.      It  was  my  first  school -bouk  here,  and  I  hope  it 


2S2  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

will  be  my  first  there.  What !  shall  I  never  know  the 
Spirit  which  moves  the  wheels,  whose  rims  arc  so  high 
that  tliey  are  dreadful  ? 

"  The  only  true  theory  of  development  is  the  develo[)- 
ment  of  the  spiritual  eye  for  the  reception  of  that  light 
which  ever  shineth.' 

"  Craufard  Priory,  May  llth. — I  leant  against  a  great 
tall  pine  to-day.  The  trunk  moved  as  the  top  waved  in 
the  wind.  The  many  branched  top  with  its  leaves,  use- 
less, albeit,  was  dependent  on  the  rooted  stem  ;  it  *  moved 
all  together,  if  it  moved  at  all.'  But  was  not  the  stem 
dependent  on  the  top  also  ?  Had  the  top  been  cut  off, 
how  long  Avould  the  stem  have  been  of  becoming  rotten  ? 
Let  the  j)eople  beware  how  they  brag  about  the  roots,  and 
the  dependence  of  the  uppermost  branches  upon  them. 
All  is  a  goodly  tree.  May  it  only  be  the  planting  of  the 
Lord  !  That  so  being  it  may  bring  forth  the  fruits  of 
righteousness. 

" .  .  .  .  Christ's  love  is  not  His  life,  death,  resurrection, 
ascension,  promises.  It  is  that  in  which  they  all  live, 
move,  and  have  their  being ;  and  my  faith  in  His  love  is  a 
higher  thing  th.on  faith  in  anything  whereby  He  manifests 
it.  It  is  fiiith  in  Himself — in  what  He  is,  and  not  merely 
in  what  He  does." 

The  political  disturbances  on  the  Continent  during 
1848  had,  of  course,  great  interest  for  him  ;  but  he  was 
struck  still  more  by  the  outburst  of  discontent  at 
home,  as  revealing  a  condition  of  society  for  which 
the  Church  of  Christ  was  in  a  great  measure  respon- 
sible. His  impressions  on  this  subject  were  deepened 
by  what  he  saw  when  he  was  in  Glasgow  during  a 
serious  riot.  Suddenly  the  leading  thoroughfares 
were  swept  by  a  torrent  of  men  and  women  of  a  type 
utterly  different  from  the  ordinary  poor.  Haggard, 
abandoned,  ferocious,  they  issued  from  the  neglected 


LAST  FLARS  AT  DALKEITH.  2S3 

haunts  of  misery  and  crime,  drove  the  police  into 
their  headquarters,  and,  for  a  Avhile  took  possession 
of  the  streets.  In  this  spectacle  Norman  recognised 
the  sin  of  the  Churches  which  had  permitted  the 
growth  of  such  an  ignorant,  wretched,  and  dangerous 
population.  There  was  no  horror  perpetrated  during 
the  first  French  Eevolution  that  he  did  not  believe 
might  have  been  repeated  by  the  mob  he  saw  in 
Glasgow ;  and  although  the  Chartist  movement  was 
connected  with  a  very  different  class  of  the  com- 
munity, it  also  suggested  serious  thoughts  as  to  the 
future  of  the  country,  and  the  duty  incumbent  on  the 
Church. 

"  A'pril,  1848. 
"  The  Chartists  are  put  do^yn.  Good  !  Good  for  jewel- 
lers' shops  and  'Special'  heads;  good,  as  giving  peace  and 
security.  Each  one  upon  Kennington  Common  might  have 
spoken  Bottom's  intended  prologue  for  Snug  in  his  cha- 
racter of  Lion.  '  Ladies,  or  fair  ladies,  I  would  wish  you,  or 
entreat  you,  not  to  fear,  not  to  tremble  :  my  life  for  yours. 
If  you  think  I  come  hither  as  a  lion,  it  were  pity  of  my  life. 
No,  I  am  no  such  thing.  /  mn  a  man  as  other  men  are  ; 
■ — and  there,  indeed  (quoth  Bottom),  let  him  name  his 
name,  and  tell  them  plainly  he  is  Snug,  the  joiner.'  But 
this  same  Snug,  the  joiner,  though  no  lion,  is  still  a  man 
as  other  men  are — and  so  is  each  of  the  10,000  or  20,000, 
or,  according  to  common  computation,  200,000,  Snugs  on 
Kennington  Common — each  a  man  like  other  men,  each 
liaving  a  body  finely  fashioned  and  tempered,  which  in 
rags  shivers  in  the  cold,  while  the  '  Special '  goes  to  his 
fireside,  with  triumph  draws  in  his  chair,  saying,  '  the 
ncoundrels  are  put  down  ;' — a  body  that  can  gnaw  from 
hunger,  and  has  not  perhaps  tasted  food  for  twenty-four 
hours,  while  my  respected  and  rather  corpulent  friend, 
the  good  '  Special,'  growls  that  he  Avill  be  kept  from  dinner, 
and  can  only  take  a  hurried  lunch  in  the  club,  John 
taking  charge  of  his  baton.     Nay,  honest  Snug  has  a  heart  ; 


z8+  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

his  friend  Nick  Bottom,  the  weaver,  has  his  Thisbe  at  home, 
whom  he  loves,  and  though  he  is  an  ass,  his  wife  loves 
him  as  much  as  Titania  ever  did  his  namesake.  Does 
the  '  Special '  love  Mrs,  Smith  and  the  young  Smiths, 
more  than  these  do  Mrs.  Snug  and  Mrs.  Bottom,  and  the 
young  Snugs  and  young  Bottoms  ?  The  Nell  of  the  one 
and  the  Joan  of  the  other  think  more  of  these  same 
scoundrel  Chartists  than  of  all  the  world  beside.  Each 
dot  in  that  huge  mass  on  Kennington  Common  is  the 
centre,  the  only  one,  perhaps,  of  household  admiration. 
]Jaddy  Special,  thou  art  a  good  kind  soul  of  a  father 
and  a  husband — thou  wouldst  not  crush  the  cat's  paw 
with  thy  baton — didst  thou  know  poor  Snug  and  Bottom 
thou  wouldst  not  show  thy  fomily  the  way  to  break  their 
heads.  These  are  men  like  thyself,  not  lions.  They  are 
men,  and  so  responsible  and  immortal  beings.  It  is  this 
Avhich  makes  the  heart  bleed,  and  w'hich  makes  us  hear  with 
an.\ious  spirit  the  news  of  all  that  these  men  wish,  say,  try, 
and  accomplish,  and  all  that  is  done  to  put  them  down. 

"  We  demand  from  them  patience  while  starving  — 
do  we  meet  their  demands  for  bread  ?  We  demand  from 
them  obedience  to  law — do  we  teach  them  what  they 
are  to  obey  ?  We  demand  from  them  love  of  man — 
have  we  taught  them  the  love  of  God  ?  What  is  the 
nation  to  do  for  these  men,  who  made  the  nation  anxious, 
and  the  Exchange  of  the  world  oscillate — and  the  hero 
of  a  hundred  fights  put  on  his  armour  ?  Here  in  the 
midst  of  us  is  a  mighty  power,  felt,  acknowledged — 
what  is  doing  to  make  it  a  power  for  good  ?  Put  down  ! 
It  is  the  })Utting  down  of  a  maniac,  not  his  cure  ;  and 
what  if  the  maniacs  increase  and  obtain  the  majority,  and 
put  down  the  keepers  ?  Special !  what  hast  thou  ever 
done  for  thy  brother  ?  Ay — don't  stare  at  me  or  at  thy 
baton — thy  brother,  I  say  !  Now  don't  get  sulky  ;  I  am 
not  ungrateful  to  thee,  nor  am  I  disposed  to  fraternise 
with  Dutly  and  O'Connor,  though  I  call  Snug  and  Bottom 
brothers.  But,  I  ask,  hast  thou  ever  concerned  thyself 
about  thv  poor  brother — how  he  was  to  be  fed  and  clothed 
— or  if  neither,  how  he  was  to  endure  ?  How  he  was  to 
be  taught  his  duties  to  God  and  man — and,  if  not,  how  ho 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  285 

was  to  be  a  loyal  subject  to  Queen  Victoria,  and  a  sup- 
porter of  the  Bench  of  Bishops  ?  Honestly,  friend — hast 
thou  ever  taken  as  much  thought  about  him  as  thou  hast 
taken  in  thy  kindness  about  thyself  and  myself,  in  defend- 
ing us  on  the  10th?  Hast  thou  ever  troubled  thyself 
about  healing  his  broken  heart  as  thou  hast  about  y-iving 
him  a  broken  head  ?  And  yet  thou  art  not  a  bad  man, 
but  a  good,  kind  soul.  But,  friend,  we  are  all  forgetful, 
and  all  selfish  ! 

"  Selfish  !  This  lies  at  the  root  of  the  whole  evil,  as  it 
lies  at  the  root,  indeed,  of  all  evil.  That  a  great  evil 
exists  in  the  present  state  of  our  country  is  certain. 
AVhere  shall  we  see  such  poverty  and  ignorance,  with 
their  results  of  misery  and  discontent  and  readiness  to 
attempt  anything  to  get  quit  of  both,  as  in  our  Irec  and 
Christian  country  ?  Everywhere  the  same — every  town, 
every  village,  has  its  ignorant  and  wretched  men.  The 
bees  who  fly  about  the  hive,  and  buzz  and  sting,  and  die 
in  the  snow  in  winter,  during  some  momentary  sunshine, 
are  few  in  comparison  with  those  who  remain  torpid  and 
dying  from  cold  and  exhaustion  in  the  unknown  and  un- 
seen cells.  The  ignorance  of  masses  of  our  people  is 
unknown  to  all  but  those  who,  like  myself,  come  into 
contact  with  them.  I  can,  at  this  moment,  mention 
four  parents  who  came  to  me  for  baj)tism,  who  were  as 
ignorant  as  heathen,  never  having  heard  of  Jesus  Christ, 
and  knowing  nothing  of  God  or  immortality.  Everywhere 
pest  and  canker — spreading,  deepening,  increasing — and, 
unless  cured  in  God's  way,  punishing — terribly  and  righte- 
ously punishing —  in  God's  way.  Principle  and  self-interest 
prompt  the  same  question — what  shall  we  do  ? — where  is 
the  cure  ? 

"  Is  the  cure  less  taxation  ?  How  this,  when  thou- 
sands of  your  most  dangerous  men  tax  themselves 
70  per  cent,  for  drink  !  Is  the  cure  high  wages  ?  Ask 
the  manufacturer  if  his  safe  men  and  true  men  are 
generally  among  those  who  have  high  wages.  Is  the 
cure  school  instruction  i  But  what  security  of  any 
good  have  we  in  mere  intellect  Avithout  God  ?  More 
churches  ?      Get   your    men    first   who    will    enter   them. 


ago  LIFE  OF  XOhj..  AN  MACLEOD. 

More  ministers  ?  Neither  can  cure  poverty,  and  ihinis- 
ters  must  be  good  and  wise.      SuftVaqe  ?      Hiiinhng-. 

"  Not  one  of  these  is  itself  sufficient,  but  all  are  good 
wlien  taken  together.  We  must  have  schools,  and  any 
schools  better  than  none,  any  education  bettor,  infinitely 
better  than  none.  But  not  to  dwell  upon  what  all  admit 
and  feel,  yet  I  would  ask,  why  is  not  each  factory  com- 
pelled to  have  its  large  school  and  its  large  church  ?  lioth 
to  be  for  the  workmen.  Let  the  Church  be  threefold — 
Popish,  E})iscopalian,  and  Presbyterian,  and  let  there  be 
no  fixed  minister,  but  let  the  clergy  in  the  town  take  time 
about  in  the  evenings  too,  and  none  admitted  but  in 
working  clothes. 

"  Yet  there  is  to  me  a  more  e.Kcellent  way,  and  that  is 
love  !  The  true  and  only  cure  seems  to  me  to  lie  in  the 
personal  and  regular  communion  of  the  better  with  tlie 
worse — man  with  man — until  each  Christian,  like  his 
Saviour,  becomes  one  with  those  who  are  to  be  saved  ;  until 
he  can  be  bone  of  their  bone,  sympathize,  teach,  weep, 
rejoice,  eat  and  drink  with  them  as  one  with  them  in  the 
flesh.  The  world  will  not  believe  because  it  cannot  see 
that  Christianity  is  true,  by  seeing  its  reality  in  the  mar- 
vellous oneness  of  Christ  and  people. 

"  The  world,  if  ever  it  is  to  be  reformed  by  men  and 
through  men,  can  only  be  so  by  the  personal  intercourse 
of  living  men — living  epistles,  not  dead  ones.  Love,  meek- 
ness and  kindness,  forbearance,  unselfishness,  manifested  in 
human  souls,  uttering  themselves  by  word,  look  and  deed, 
and  no*"  by  mere  descriptions  of  these  sentiments  or  essays 
upon  the/n,  can  alone  reoenerat'"'  man.  The  living  Church 
is  more  than  the  dead  Bible,  lor  it  is  the  Bible  and  some- 
thing more.  It  is  the  Bible  alive.  It  is  its  effect,  its 
evidence,  its  cinljodiment.  God  has  always  dealt  through 
living  men  with  men,  and  He  Himself  deals  with  them 
throufi-h  a  Personal  Spirit.  When  Christ  left  the  world  Ho 
did  so  that  He  might  for  ever  dwell  in  it  in  His  people. 

"  Neither  money  nor  schools  nor  tracts  nor  churches 
can  ever  be  substituted  for  living  men.  It  is  this  we 
want.  It  is  this  the  lanes  and  closes  want.  Not  ministers 
merely    going    tlicir    riimids,    like    poli^ciiirn,    with    black 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  287 

clothes  and  white  neckcloths  ;  not  elders  taking-  statis- 
tics, or  deacons  giving  alms,  or  ladies  tracts — all  good  (what 
should  we  have  heen  without  these,  the  only  salt  hitherto!}; 
but  we  want  Christians,  whether  they  be  smiths  or  shoe- 
makers, or  tailors  or  grocers,  or  coach-drivers  or  advocates, 
to  remember  their  own  responsibilities,  their  immense 
influence  for  good,  and  to  be  personal  ministers  for 
good.  The  separation  outwardly  of  society  is  terrible. 
Only  see  the  old  and  new  towns  of  Edinburgh  !  What  a 
type  of  British  society  !  It  used  not  to  be  so.  In  the  old 
town  and  in  the  olden  times,  families  of  different  grades 
used  to  live  in  the  same  tenement,  and  j^oor  and  rich  were 
thus  mingled  together  in  their  habitation  and  in  their 
joys.  So  is  it  now  in  many  villages,  and  in  many  parts  of 
the  country.  But  generally  there  is  a  wide  separation, 
bridged  over  by  tracts,  or  societies,  or  money  (sparingly)  ; 
but  not  by  the  living  Church  of  Christ.  The  full  heart 
and  the  full  mind  do  not  meet  to  empty  themselves  (there- 
by becoming  fuller)  into  tlie  void  heart  and  the  void  mnid. 
We  have  Avords  on  the  philosophy  of  life,  instead  of  lile 
itself  W^e  are  selfish,  I  say,  and  willing  to  pay  for  it 
rather  than  to  part  from  it.  We  subscribe  for  volumes  of 
music  instead  of  breathing  forth,  in  the  habitations  of  sad 
and  bad  men,  '  the  still  music  of  humanity.'  AVhen  shall 
we  learn  to  imitate,  or  rather  to  share,  the  love  of  Him  who 
Avas  love  itself,  who.  '  knowing  that  all  thino-s  were  o-iven 
Him  of  the  Father,  that  He  came  from  God  and  went  to 
God,' — what  then  ? — Oh  marvellous  condescension,  because 
marvellous  love, — '  girded  Himself  with  a  towel  and  washed 
the  disciples'  feet ! ' 

"  The  question  in  regard  to  elevating  man  is  not  so 
much  Avhat  is  good  for  him,  as  how  the  good  is  to  be  given 
to  him.  What  he  should  have  must  correspond  to  what 
he  needs.  As  an  animal  and  in  the  body  he  needs  food 
and  clothing,  air  and  light,  and  water  and  exercise ;  as  a 
social  being  he  needs  society  ;  as  a  sentient  being  he  needs 
things  pleasing  to  the  senses  ;  as  an  active  being  he  needs 
something  to  occupy  him  ;  as  a  moral  being  he  needs  God 
over  all  and  in  all,  blissful  and  blessing.  Let  all  man's 
wants  be  met.     But  the  link  between  the  supply  and  the 


2  88  LIFE  OF  NOFMAX  MACLFoD. 

demand  (or  the  soul  wliicli  should  demand),  is  tlie  man  who 
has  ah'eady  found  tlie  supply.  If  the  question  ever  arises 
between  the  animal  and  the  immortal,  the  first  must  yield.  I 
hate  giving  in  to  the  prineiple  tliat  hunger  entitles  a  luaii, 
not  to  our  sympathy  and  our  charity,  as  men  and  Chiis- 
tians  ;  but  entitles  him  to  be  anything  or  nothing,  a  thief 
or  seditious.      'A  man's  life  is  more  than  meat.'  " 


To  J.  C.  Shairp,  Esq.,  Eugby,  who  had  sent  a  lieview  of  "  Struthers's 
Autobiography"  : — 

May  Vlth,  1848. 
"  As  to  Struthers,  I  fear  you  have  missed  the  man. 
He  is  so  completely  a  formation  in  an  old  structure  of 
society,  or  rather  an  old  organism  in  one,  so  thoroughly 
Scotch,  so  thoroughly  antique,  that  unless  you  had  been 
familiar  with  the  genus,  you  could  not  classify  him.  I 
rejoice  in  his  crudities  about  kirks.  The  ver}'  oddity  of 
the  garments  which  encase  his  Old  Mortality  soul  delights 
me.  The  feature  Avhich  I  wished  3^011  to  delineate  was 
that  manly  independence,  that  godly  simplicity  of  the 
peasant  saint,  which  is  so  beautiful.  Just  read  again  his 
early  days  as  a  herd,  his  first  day  of  married  life,  his 
first  entrance  into  Glasgow,  and  then  remember  how  true 
the  man  is.  He  is  a  genuine  man,  and  as  i)erfect  a  speci- 
men of  a  class  of  Scotchmen  passing  away  (and  soon  to  be 
driven  off  the  road  like  the  old  coaches  by  steam)  as  the 
pibroch  is  a  specimen  of  old  music,  or  the  small  bog 
myrtle  of  a  Highland  scene." 

To  the  Same  : — 

CRAUFrRD  Priory,  May  Wth. 
"  I  have  not  written  to  your  friend,  Mr.  Temple,  because 
I  found  I  could  not  receive  him  at  my  house  with  any  com- 
fort or  satisfaction.  I  came  hero  for  change  of  air,  and 
propose  returning  hojiie  the  end  of  the  week,  in  order  to 
attempt  a  little  Sabl)ath  duty  before  going  off  to  '  summer 
high,'  U})on  the  Wtistern  Hills  for  a  few  weeks.  I  have 
run  away  from  the  General  Assembly  to  which  I  was  elected 
a  member,   preferring   to  driiilc   in    ,he  spirit   of   solitude, 


LAST  r£ARS  AT  DALKEITH.  289 

and  to  feast  my  inward  ear  upon  '  unheard  melodies,'  ratlier 
than  to  sit,  '  dusty  and  deUquescent,'  listening  to  th'^ 
debates  of  my  most  worthy  and  orthodox,  but  still  j^i'osy 
and  eock-sure-of-everything,  brethren.  All  this  lengthy 
explanation  is  to  account  for  my  apparent  heathenish  want 
of  Temple  service  and  unkindness  towards  your  friend. 

"  I  have  found  it  very  good  to  have  been  withdrawn  for 
some  time  from  outward  work.  What  I  have  lost  in  body 
doino-,  1  have  gained  in  soul  being.  I  have  felt  how  con- 
siderate  and  loving  it  was  in  Christ  to  have  asked  His  dis- 
ciples to  go  with  Him  and  '  rest  awhile,'  because  so  many 
were  coming  and  going  that  they  had  not  time  even  to  eat. 
In  this  struofsrle  between  the  unseen  and  seen — -God,  and 
things  apart  from  or  out  of  God — it  is  good  to  be  outwardly 
separated  from  the  seen  and  temporal,  as  a  means  of  being 
brought  more  into  contact  with  the  unseen  and  eternal.  I 
have  not  had  such  enjoyable  Sabbaths  for  a  long  time. 
Such  peace  and  repose  was  unearthly.  We  ministers  in 
Scotland  cannot  always  enjoy  our  Sabbaths  We  have  too 
much  giving  and  too  little  receiving.  The  only  way  to 
get  good  for  ourselves  is  to  preach  peacefully,  without  at- 
tempt at  fine  things,  and  in  the  sight  of  God  and  for  His 
glory.  Two  books  \  read  during  my  sickness — your  friend 
Stanley's  '  Apostolic  Age,'  and  the  last  edition  of  Hare's 
*  Guesses  at  Truth.'  This  last  rather  disappointed  me. 
It  did  not,  as  a  whole,  send  me  far  on,  nor  did  it  come  up 
to  my  idea  of  what  the  Hares  could  have  done  under  the 
cover  of  a  title  which  left  such  a  mighty  field  for  vigorous 
speculation.  I  was  delighted  with  Stanley.  The  style 
perhaps  is  rather  too  intensely  artistic.  But  it  is  a  well  put 
together,  manly,  fresh,  truthful  book.  I  have  no  doubt  of 
his  success  in  seizing  the  features  of  the  old  giants.  I  was 
charmed  with  his  idea  of  each  apostle  becoming  a  guiding 
star  to  different  times,  or  different  ages  finding  their  wants 
supplied  by  one  more  than  the  rest.  I  am  satisfied,  and 
have  been  for  some  time,  that  this  is  the  age  of  St.  John. 
Unless  the  Church  gets  wholesome  spiritual  food  given  to  it, 
its  next  development  will  be  mysticism.  Nothing  outward 
in  government,  creed,  or  mode  of  worship  can  satisfy  the  in- 
creasing hunger  in  the  Church  ;  all  are  seeking  something 

VOL.    I,  u 


2<yo  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

which  the}^  find  not,  yet  know  not  hardly  what  thoy  spolc. 
T  think  tliat  somothing  is  unity.  But  of  wliat  hind  \ 
NoLliiui^  can  satisfy  but  one  : — unity  of  mind  with  Christ, 
and  so  with  one  another.  I  hope  the  breakings  up  in 
Protestantism  may  lead  to  it.  The  breaking  up  of  fleshly 
unity  {i.  e.  anything  apart  from  God)  often  leads  to  spiritual 
unity.  Each  part  being  driven  to  God  (in  its  conscious 
Aveakness)  for  that  strength,  and  good,  and  peace,  and  joy, 
earth  has  failed  to  give,  becomes  therel)y  more  united 
spiritually  to  every  other  part  so  doing. 

"  I  dare  say  you  do  not  understand  me,  for  really  I  have 
no  brain,  and  no  patience  either  to  think  or  write.  I  ou^ht 
not  to  attempt  it.  I  only  wish  you  were  beside  me,  that 
I  might  splutter  out  my .  thoughts  about  the  re-action 
which  the  oiUivardness  of  our  orthodoxy  is  producing, 
and  which  the  worst  kind  of  Germanism,  and  the  pan- 
theism of  Emerson,  are  meeting  and  dissecting,  but  which 
St.  John's  Gospels  and  Epistles  can  alone  so  meet,  as  to 
sanctify  and  save.      But  my  brain,  John,  my  brain  ! 

"  I  am  wearied,  I  can  write  no  more.  The  day  is  lovely. 
John  Mackintosh  is  here  enjoying  himself  much.  AVe  are 
with  my  brother  John,  in  Craufurd  Priory,  The  trees  are 
scattering  their  blossoms  in  the  breeze  ;  the  leaves  are 
transparent  ;  the  bees  and  birds  alone  disturb  the  silence 
of  the  woods.  I  have  had  a  short  enjoyable  lounge  on 
mossy  sward.  I  seldom  think  when  walking.  I  am,  as 
Emerson  says,  '  a  transparent  eyeball.' 

"  A  great  study  of  mine  during  my  sickness  has  been 
that  mighty  deep — Christ's  temptation — taken  in  conneo- 
tion  with  the  history  of  the  first  temptation,  the  history  of 
the  Israelites,  Christ's  own  history,  and  the  history  of  the 
Church — and  of  each  Christian." 


An  illness,  brought  on  by  overwork,  compelled  him 
to  give  up  preaching  for  a  time.  lie  went  for  change 
of  air  to  his  father's  house  at  Shandon,  on  the  pic- 
turesque banks  of  the  Gareloch,  and  there,  in  his 
rambles  by  bum  and  brae,  thought  out  those  views  of 


LAST  YEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  291 

the  temptation  of  Clirist  wliich  were  afterwards  pub- 
lished. 

From  his  JOURNAL : — 

"  Shandon,  May. — How  beautiful  is  everything  here  ! 
It  is  a  very  Avorld  of  music  and  painting.  In  the  melody 
of  the  birds,  in  the  forms  and  beauty  of  the  landscape,  in 
the  colouring  of  the  flowers  and  dressing  of  the  trees,  there 
seems  a  vindication  of  the  pursuit  of  the  fine  arts.  They 
are  God-like  ;  but  how  demon-like  when  the  artist  recog- 
nises nature  no  longer  as  the  '  Art  of  God,'  but  as  the  art 
of  Satan  for  satisfying  the  soul  without  God  ;  then  Eden  is 
Eden  no  longer — we  are  banished  from  its  tree  of  life. 

"  Hnw  many  things  are  in  the  world  yet  not  of  it !  The 
material  world  itself,  with  all  its  scenes  of  grandeur  and 
beauty,  with  all  its  gay  adornments  of  tree  and  Hower, 
and  light  and  shade — with  all  its  accompanying  glory  of 
blue  sky  and  fleecy  cloud,  or  midnight  splendour  of  moon 
and  stars — all  are  of  the  Father.  And  so,  too,  is  all  that 
inner  world,  when,  like  the  outer,  it  moves  according 
to  His  will — of  loyal  friendships,  loving  brotherhood — 
and  the  heavenly  and  blessed  charities  of  home,  and  all  the 
real  light  and  joy  that  dwell,  as  a  very  symbol  of  His  own 
presence,  in  the  Holy  of  Holies  of  a  renewed  spirit.  In 
one  word,  all  that  is  true  and  lovely  and  of  good  report — • 
all  that  is  one  with  His  will,  is  of  the  Father,  and  not  of 
the  world.  Let  the  world,  then,  pass  away  with  the  lust 
thereof !  It  is  the  passing  away  of  death  and  darkness — 
of  all  that  is  at  enmity  to  God  and  man.  All  that  is  of 
the  Father  shall  remain  for  ever." 

To  his  sister  Jane  : — 

SHAirDON,  Maij,  1848. 
"  I  have  been  yearning  here  for  quiet  and  retirement. 
I  got  it  yesterday.  I  set  off  upon  a  steeple-chase,  scenting 
like  a  wild  ass  the  water  from  afar.  But  heather,  birch, 
and  the  like,  were  my  water  in  the  desert.  I  found  all. 
I  passed  through  the  upper  park  and  entered  a  birch  wood. 
I  traced  an  old  path,  half  trodden — whether   by  men  or 

u   2 


2q2  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

hares  I  conld  not  tell.  It  led  nie  to  a  Avee  burn.  \\  a 
moment  I  loinid  myself  in  the  midst  of  a  pocMii  ;  one  (d 
those  woodlantl  lyrics  which  have  a  melody  heavd  and  un- 
lieard,  which  enters  by  the  eye  and  ear,  woes  down  to  the 
heart,  and  steeps  it  in  light,  pours  on  it  tlie  oil  of  joy,  and 
gives  it  *  beauty  for  ashes.'  This  same  mountain  spirit  of 
a  burn  comes  from  the  heather,  from  the  lonely  home  of 
sheep,  kites,  and  '  peasweeps.'  Jt  enters  a  birch  wood,  and 
flows  over  cleanest  slate.  When  i  met  it,  it  was  falling  with 
a  chuckling,  gurgling  lauo^li,  into  a  small  pool,  clear  as  liquid 
diamond.  The  rock  shelved  over  it  and  sheltered  it.  In 
the  crevices  of  the  rock  were  arranged,  as  tasteful  nature 
alone  can  do,  bunches  of  primroses,  sprouting  green  ferns, 
and  innumerable  rock  plants,  while  the  sunlight  gleaming 
from  the  water  danced  and  played  upon  the  shelving  rock, 
as  if  to  the  laughing  tune  of  the  brook,  and  oveihead 
weeping  birches  and  hazels,  and  beside  me  green  grass  and 
wood  hyacinths  and  primroses.  All  around  the  birds  were 
singing  with  '  full-throated  ease,'  and  up  above,  a  deep  blue 
sky  with  a  few  island  clouds,  and  now  and  then,  far  up,  a 
solitary  crow  winging  across  the  blue  and  silence.  Now  this 
I  call  rest  and  peace.  It  is  such  an  hour  of  rest  amidst  toil 
as  does  my  soul  good,  lasts  and  will  come  back  with  a 
soothing  peacefulness  amidst  hard  labour. 

"  I  felt  so  thankful  for  my  creation,  my  profession,  my 
country,  my  all,  all,  all.  I  only  desired  something  better 
in  the  spirit. 

"  Pray  don't  smile  at  my  burn  ;  but  when  I  feel  in  love, 
I  delight  to  expatiate  upon  my  beloved  ;  and  I  am  mad 
about  my  burn." 

To  the  Same  : — 

Shakdon,  May  23,  1848. 

"  To-day  I  set  off  en  a  cruise  to  discover  a  glen  about 
which  there  were  vague  traditions  at  Shandon.  It  was 
called  Glen  Fruin,  which,  in  ancient  Celtic,  I  understand, 
was  the  Glen  of  Weeping.  Dr.  Macleod,  a  Gaelic  autho- 
rity who  is  with  us  (a  great  friend,  by-the-bye,  of  my 
mother's),  says  that  the  bodies  of  the  dead  used  to  be 
carried  through  the  said  glen,  from  some  place  to  some  other 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  293 

place — hence  weeping.  Well,  I  set  off.  Behold  me,  stiff 
in  the  limbs,  my  feet  as  if  they  were  '  clay  and  iron  ' — hard, 
unbending,  yet  weak  ;  but  the  head  of  gold,  pure,  pure  gold; 
though  now,  like  Bardolph's,  unfortunately  uncoinable. 
Behold  me,  puffing,  blowing,  passing  through  the  ujjper 
park.  Bathed  ere  I  reached  the  birch  wood,  and  soon  re- 
clined near  my  burn,  with  Shakespeare  as  my  only  com- 
j'lanion.  But  even  he  began  to  be  too  stiff  and  prosy. 
The  ferns,  and  water,  and  cuckoo  beat  him  hollow ;  so  I 
cast  him  aside,  and  began  creeping  up  the  burn,  seeking 
for  deeper  solitude,  like  a  wild  beast.  I  was  otter-like  in- 
deed in  everything  save  my  size,  shape,  and  clothes,  and 
having  Shakespeare  in  my  pocket.  Then  I  began  to  gather 
ferns,  and  found  beautiful  specimens.  Then  I  studied  the 
beautiful  little  scene  around  me,  and  Avas  so  glad  that  I 
dreamt,  on  and  on,  listening  to  that  sweet  inland  murmur. 

"  The  power  of  the  hills  is  over  me  !  Away  for  Glen  Fruin, 
two  miles  uphill !  Hard  work  !  Alas,  alas  !  that  I  should 
come  to  this  !  Try  it !  Be  off  !  So  off  I  went — and  on 
and  on.  Green  braes — there  march  dykes — there  withered 
heather — there  mossy.  Very  near  the  first  ridge  which 
bounds  the  horizon.  Puff'  puff — on,  on  !  '  Am  I  a 
bullet  ? '     On — at  last — I  must  lie  down  ! 

"  This  will  never  do  !  Go  ahead,  Norman  !  Get  up — get 
on  !  I  do  think  that,  on  principle,  I  should  stop  !  Go  ahead. 
Whit's  that  ?  '  Cock,  cock,  ock,  whiz-z-z-z  ' —  Grouse  ! 
That's  cheering.  What's  that  ?  '  Wheadleoo,  ivheadlcoo' — 
a  curlew  !  Hurrah,  we  are  going  ahead  !  Another  pull ! 
The  loch  out  of  sight.  Something  looming  in  the  far  dis- 
tance. Arran  Hills  !  So,  ahead,  my  boy — limbs  better — ■ 
steam  up — the  spirit  of  the  hills  getting  strong — the  ghosts 
of  my  fathers  and  my  mothers  beckoning  me  onwards. 
The  moor  getting  boggy  —  soft — more  hags — first  rate! 
Ladies  don't  walk  here.  This  is  unknown  to  dandies. 
Another  hill.  And  then — up  I  am !  Now,  is  not  this 
glorious  ?  Before  me,  pure  Loch  Gare — and  beyond  the 
most  sublime  view  I  almost  ever  saw.  Terraces  apparently 
of  sea  and  land — the  sea  a  mirror.  Vessels  everywhere 
— tiie  setting  sun  tinging  the  high  peaks  of  Arran,  kiiiing 
them   and   the  hills  of  Thibet  with  the   same  gloW;  lay- 


294 


LIFE  OF  XOAW.i.y  MACLEOD. 


ing  tlio  one  asleep  witl)  a  parting  kiss,  and  with  an- 
other wiiklML;-  uji  lier  castcni  chihiren.  There's  poetry 
for  you  ! 

"  The  great  hills  of  Arran,  '  like  great  men,'  as  Jean  Paul 
says,  '  the  first  to  catch,  the  last  to  lose  the  light.'  Was 
not  all  this  glorious  ?  not  to  s[)eak  of  the  sea,  and  ships, 
and  solitude.  Do  you  know  I  never  think  at  such  times. 
I  am  in  a  state  of  unconscious  reception,  and  of  conscious 
deep  joy.      No  more. 

"  Glen  Fruin  lay  at  my  feet,  with  sloping  green  hills  like 
the  Yarrow  '  hare  liills,'  as  Billy  says  ;  but  like  all  such 
hills,  most  j)oetical  and  full  of  '  pastoral  melancholy.'    Well, 


I  shall  only  state  that  I  came  down,  in  case  you  imagine 
that  I  am  there  still.  And  when  1  came  down,  what  then  ? 
Most  amiable  and  most  literary — crammed  a  listenincf  audi- 
ence  with  Wordsworth,  Tennyson,  and  Shakespeare. 

"  Now  have  I  not  much  cause  to  thank  God  for  all  His 
mercies  ?  and,  dear,  I  have  done  so.  T  have  been  truly 
liapi)y.  My  study  has  been  the  Temptation,  still  so  full  of 
wonders.  I  have  not  been  in  the  least  troubled  about  the 
Assembly,  exee[)t  so  far  as  to  make  me  remember  it  in  my 
prayers — yes,  both  Assemblies,  I  am  glad  to  say.  These 
glorious  scenes  are  in  harmony  only  with  a  spirit  of  love. 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  295 

God's  reign  over  all  men,  throughout  all  ages,  and  God's 
reign  of  love  in  our  hearts,  when  believed,  gives  peace. 

"I  wish  to  be  back  in  time  to  prepare  for  the  fVmmu- 
nion.  The  scenes  of  beauty  and  the  time  of  retirement 
which  I  have  had  are  in  perfect  keeping  with  again  hearing 
'the  still  sad  music  of  humanity,'  in  our  miserable  closes  and 
vile  abodes.  The  Lord  left  His  glory  and  rest  to  dwell  with 
liien  ;  and  by  the  cross  He  entered  into  more  glorious  rest, 
were  that  possible." 

To  John  C.  Shaibp,  Esq.,  Eugby  :■— ^ 

SliAifDON,  May  25. 
"  In  the  midst  of  sovereign  hills  silence  is  most  becoming, 
and  then  I  never  can  think  at  such  times.  I  grow  as  uncon- 
sciously as  plants  do  beneath  the  sun  and  showier.  But  oh ! 
the  life  and  joy  !  The  man  who  begins  to  doubt  anything 
on  a  inountain  top  except  his  own  pov;ers,  who  begins  to 
question  instead  of  contentedly  receiving,  who  speaks  of 
the  authority  of  books  and  professors,  who,  in  short,  does 
not  love  and  rejoice,  should  be  pitched  over  the  first  rock, 
or  have  such  a  hiding  given  him  with  lueeping  birch  as 
will  send  him  howling  to  Glen  Fruin  ('  the  Glen  of  Weep- 
ing ') !  I  am  every  day  getting  better.  I  suffered  from  an 
affection  of  the  membrane  which  covers  stomach,  chest,  and 
brain,  and  practically  all  creation  when  it  (the  membrane) 
is  out  of  order !  I  am  certain  Hamlet's  liver  or  membrane 
was  affected ! " 


From  his  Jouenal  : — 

Sha^tdon,  June  3. 

"  Was  there  ever  a  period  in  which  it  was  more  neces- 
sary for  men  who  love  the  good  of  our  National  Zion  to 
meet  together  in  prayer  and  sober,  earnest  thoughtfulness, 
to  consider  the  state  of  our  country  and  the  present  state 
of  the  Church,  our  dangers,  difficulties,  weaknesses,  duties, 
comforts  ? 

"  Might  not  such  questions  be  considered  as  bearing 
upon   that  mighty  one  of  education  :    the  training  up  of 


296  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

an  efTicient  ministry;  an  efficient  system  ofS.vbharh  schools; 
the  infusing  a  heaUhier  life  and  love  into  our  clergy  ;  the 
development  of  Congregational,  Preshyterial,  Synodieal, 
and  Assembly  life  ;  the  bringing  forward  of  the  intelligent 
laity  ;  the  best  mode  of  dealing  with  the  jjoor  Highlands 
— with  the  masses  in  towns ;  what  is  needed  iu  our 
theology  in  our  times  with  reference  to  Germany  and 
England  ;  what  are  our  duties  to  Dissenters,  to  the  Church 
of  England,  to  the  Continent.  If  ve  only  could  get  men 
to  think,  and  think  earnestly,  in  this  terrible  crisis,  I  should 
be  at  ease." 


To  his  sister  Jane  : — 

Dalkeith. 

"  I  feel  terribly  ray  loneliness,  especially  as  preventing 
me  from  enjoying  literary  society.  1  began  pondering  in 
my  mind  whether  there  was  an}'^  one  in  the  town  who 
could  share  my  pleasure  in  reading  '  The  Prelude,'  and 
'  In  Memoriam,'  or  have  a  talk  with  me  about  the  tenden- 
cies of  the  age.  Of  all  my  acquaintances,  I  thought  Mrs. 
Huggins  probably  the  most  spirituelle,  and  ofi"  I  went  with 
'  The  Prelude.'  I  found  her  in  her  usual  seat  by  the  fireside, 
her  face  calm  and  meditative,  her  thumbs  still  pursuing 
their  endless  chace  after  each  other  as  if  each  had  vowed 
an  eternal  revenge  of  his  brother.  There  was  an  air  of 
placid  repose  in  her  time-worn  features,  combined  with  an 
intellectual  grandeur,  caught  from  her  long  residence  with 
the  late  illustrious  Mr.  Huggins,  and  also  a  nervous  twitch- 
ing  of  the  features,  with  an  occasional  lightning  Hash  about 
the  eye,  which  I  have  no  doubt  was  occasioned  by  living 
near  the  powder-mills  for  thirty  years.  I  was  disappointed 
with  her  views  of  poetry.  I  read  the  Introduction,  and  the 
following  conversation  ensued  : — 

"  '/. — We  have  here,  I  think,  a  fine  combination  of  the 
poet  with  the  poetic  artist.' 

•' '  //. — I  wadna  doot.      How's  yer  sister  ? ' 

"  '  /. — Well,  I  thank  you.  She  lias  been  a  long  time 
cultivating  the  ideal  under  me  ;  but  her  talent  is  small, 
her  genius  nothing.' 


LAST  YEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  ag? 

"'^. — Is    her    coch    (cough) 
better  ? ' 

"  '  I. — Rather,  Mrs.  Huggins.  /j 
But,  pray,  how  do  you  like  f/ 
Wordsworth  ? '  /  ^ 

"  '  R. — I     dinna     ken     hhn.    '^-^ 
Whar  does  he  leeve  ?     In  Petti- 
ofrew's  Close  ?     Is  he  the  stick  et 
minister  ? ' " 


To  Ilia  brother  George  (advising  him  on  the  choice  of 
a  prufeosion) : — 

Dalkeith,  Novemher  6,  1848. 

..."  We  mtist  assume  then,  that,  whatever  we  eat  or 
drink,  or  whatever  we  do,  it  must  be  for  God's  glory  ;  or, 
to  make  this  plainer,  I  assume  that  Christ  has  for  every 
man  '  his  work ' — a  something  in  His  kingdom  to  do 
which  is  better  suited  to  him,  and  he  to  it,  than  any  other. 
Happy  is  the  man  who  finds  what  his  work  is  and  does  it ! 
To  find  it  is  to  find  our  profession,  and  to  do  it  is  to  find 
our  highest  good  and  peace. 

"  My  faith  is,  that  there  is  a  far  greater  amount  of  reve- 
lation given  to  guide  each  man  by  the  principles  laid  down 
in  the  Bible,  by  conscience,  and  by  Providence,  than  most 
men  are  aware  of  It  is  not  the  light  which  is  defective, 
it  is  an  eye  to  see  it. 

"For  instance:  Christ  calls  us  outwardly^ and  inwardly 
to  our  profession,  and  those  two  calls,  when  they  coincide 
(when,  like  two  lines,  they  meet  at  one  point),  determine  a 
I)rofession  to  any  man  who  will  be  at  all  determined  by 
the  will  of  the  Redeemer.  The  outward  call  is  made  up  of 
all  those  outward  circumstances  which  render  the  profession 
at  all  possible  for  us,  and  which  render  any  one  profession 
more  possible  than  another.  With  this  principle  you  are 
at  no  difficulty,  of  course,  in  determining  a  thousand  pro- 
fessions or  positions  in  society  which  are  not  possible  for 
you,  and  to  which,  consequently,  you  are  not  called.  I 
need  not  illustrate  this,  it  is  self-evident.  But  as  in  your 
"case  two  or  three  professions  may  present  themselves  to 
you  which    appear    all  possible — nay,   at    first    sight,   all 


298  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

equally  possible — in  such  a  predicament  you  would  require 
caretully  to  apply  the  above  rule,  in  order  calmly  to  con- 
sider which  is  most  possible,  on  the  whole,  for  you.  Among 
the  outward  circumstances  which,  as  I  have  said,  comltine 
to  make  up  this  outward  call,  may  be  mentioned  bodily- 
health,  the  likings  of  friends,  interest  of  the  family,  means 
of  usefulness,  &c. 

"  But  there  is  also  the  inward  call  to  be  considered. 
By  this  I  mean  a  man's  internal  fitness  for  the  profession; 
and  this  of  course  makes  the  problem  a  little  more  com- 
jjlex,  yet  not  impossible  of  solution.  A  man  might  put 
such  questions  as  those  : — 

"  "Which  profession  gives  the  greatest  scope  for  the  de- 
velopment of  my  Avhole  being,  morally,  intellectually, 
socially,  actively  ?  Again  ;  am  I  titted  for  this  as  to  talent, 
principle,  education  ?  In  which  could  I  best  and  with 
greatest  advantage  use  all  the  talents  Christ  has  given  me, 
and  for  which  He  will  make  me  responsible,  so  that  not 
one  talent  shall  be  laid  up  in  a  napkin  or  buried,  but  that 
all  may  be  so  employed  that  He  can  say  to  me,  '  Well  done, 
good  and  faithful  servant  ? '  This  is  tlie  way  of  looking 
at  the  question  ;  and  I  do  not  think  it  dilHcult  to  apj»ly  it 
practically  with  the  assistance  of  God's  good  spirit.  1  tell 
you  candidly,  that,  as  far  as  I  see,  you  have  to  decide 
between  the  ministry  and  the  medical  profession. 

"  I  need  not  tell  you  Avhich  I  love  most.  I  would  not 
exchange  my  profession  for  any  on  earth.  All  I  have  seen 
of  the  world  in  courts  and  can)ps,  at  home  and  al)road,  in 
Europe  and  America,  all,  all  makes  me  cling  to  it  and  love 
it  the  more.  My  love  to  it  is  daily  increasing.  I  bless 
and  praise  God  that  He  has  called  me  to  it.  Would  only 
I  were  worthier  of  the  glory  and  dignity  which  belong  to 
it !  I  find  in  it  work  most  congenial  to  my  whole  being. 
It  at  once  nourishes  and  gives  full  scope  to  my  spirit.  It 
affords  hourly  opportunities  for  the  gratification  of  my 
keenest  sym[)athies  and  warmest  aflfections.  It  engages  my 
intellect  with  the  loftiest  investigations  which  can  demand 
its  exercise.  It  ])resents  a  field  for  constant  activity  in 
circumstances  which  are  ever  varying,  yet  always  interest- 
ing, and   never  too  burdensome   to  be  borne.     It  enables 


LAST  VEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  299 

me  to  bring  to  bear  all  I  know,  all  I  acquire,  all  I  love, 
upon  the  temporal  and  eternal  well-being  of  my  fellow- 
men,  and  to  influence  their  peace  and  good  for  ever.  It 
brings  me  into  contact  with  high  and  low,  rich  and  poor, 
in  the  most  endearing  and  interesting  relationsliips  in 
which  man  can  stand  to  man :  a  sharer  of  their  joys  and 
sorrows,  a  teacher,  a  comforter,  a  guide.  Do  you  wonder 
that  with  all  my  care  and  anxiety  (which  are  burdens 
Avorthy  of  man)  I  should  be  happy  all  the  day  long  ?  I 
envy  no  man  on  earth,  except  a  better  Christian.  A  minister 
of  the  gospel !  Kings  and  princes  may  veil  their  faces  before 
such  a  profession.  It  is  to  have  the  profession  of  angels, 
and  to  be  a  fellow-worker  with  Christ.  Excuse  me,  if  for- 
getting you  for  a  moment,  I  have  expressed  the  deep  convic- 
tions of  my  soul  as  to  what  I  feel  this  profession  to  be.  I  do 
not  mean  to  say  that  I  have  no  wish  to  influence  you ;  I  have. 
For  I  would  sooner  see  you  an  ofiicer  in  Christ's  army — ^ 
plain  Scotch  minister  though  he  be — than  any  other  thing 
on  earth  which  I  can  suppose  it  possible  for  you  to  have. 

"  Add  to  all  this,  the  loud  call  for  such  men  as  you  to 
join  the  Church  !  Oh,  George,  if  you  knew  how  I  have 
looked  forward  to  your  being  with  me  !  How  I  have 
rejoiced  in  the  prospect  of  seeing  us  three  brothers  carry 
the  Banner  of  the  Cross  together  in  our  poor  but  beloved 
country  !  I  somehow  cannot  give  up  the  hope  yet.  Better 
days  are  coming.  They  would  come  soon,  liad  we  more 
such  men  as  you." 

From  his  JouENAii : — 

''November  6. — Twenty-six  cases,  and  eighteen  deaths 
(no  recoveries),  from  cholera  at  Loanhead.  The  Cholera 
Hospital  preparing  here. 

"  '  Thou  wilt  keep  him  in  perfect  peace  whose  soul  is 
stayed  on  thee,  because  he  trusteth  in  thee.'     Amen. 

''  December  11. — I  hear  two  cases  have  occurred  here 
last  night, 

"  Lord  give  me  grace  to  do  that  which  is  right.  My 
trust  is  in  thee.  Thou  art  vaj  refuge,  and  my  fortress, 
my  God,  and  having  Thee  as  my  sure  and  unchanging  good, 
I  am  not  afraid  of  the  '  pestilence  that  walketh  in  darkness, 


300  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

nor  of  the  deslruction  which  vasteth  at  noonday.'  Lord 
direct  my  steps  !  Preserve  me  from  the  vanity  and  vain- 
glory wiiich  might  wickedly  lead  me  to  expose  myself  to 
danger,  and  from  the  sellish  fear  which  would  drive  me 
from  my  duty.  '  Lead  me  in  truth,  teach  me,'  and  may  1, 
at  this  trying  time,  be  and  do  that  which  is  right  as  Thy 
son  and  ministerinGr  servant,  and  whether  by  life  or  death 
may  I  glorify  Thee — for  living  or  dying  I  am  Thine, 
through  Jesus  Christ  !     Amen. 

"  JJecember  31,  Sabbath  night. — I  am  here  all  alone 
upon  the  last  Sabbath,  almost  the  last  hour,  of  1848. 

"  What  a  year  of  world-wonders  this  has  been,  with 
political  revolutions  in  every  part  of  Europe  !  In  Britain, 
famine,  pestilence,  riots,  and  rebellion. 

"It  has  been  an  all-important  year  to  me  !  During 
the  year  I  can  say,  that  as  far  as  I  know,  I  have  not 
fyr  a  day  or  at  any  time  consciously  resisted  what  I 
knew  to  be  right,  setting  my  heart  U})on  evil.  I  do  not 
say  that  I  have  done  any  one  thing  perfectly.  Every  day 
has  disclosed  manifold  imperfections, — sloth,  firide,  vanity, 
ambition,  shortcomings  in  all  things — but  I  have  been 
alive.  To  what  is  this  owing  ?  I  rejoice  to  write  it — 
let  it  be  seen  l)y  angels  and  devils — to  the  free  and 
boundless  and  omnipotent  grace  and  infinite  love  of  God. 

"  I  have  been  reading  those  old  diaries.  May  I  not  try 
(in  much  ignorance)  to  sum  u])  some  j)ractical  lessons  from 
<loar-bought  experience  ? 

1.  I  had  inadequate  views  of  Christ's  cross.  I  saw  a 
work  done  for  me — a  ground  for  pardon-— an  objective 
reality  ;  but  I  did  not  see  so  clearly  the  eternal  neces- 
sity of  the  cross  in  me,  of  sharing  Christ's  life  as  mine,  of 
glorying  in  the  cross  as  reflected  in  the  inward  power  it 
gives  to  '  be  crucified  to  the  world,  and  the  world  to  me.' 

2.  I  was  dealing  too  little  with  a  Personal  Saviour — 
had  too  little  (or  no)  confidence  in  His  love  to  me  indi- 
vidually, and  in  His  will  and  power  to  free  from  sin  by 
making  me  like  Himself. 

"  Light  dawns,  life  comes !  I  have  faith  in  the  love 
of  God  to  me,  that  I — even  I  shall  be  '  perfect '  as  my 
Father  in  Heaven  is  jierfect. 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  301 

"  What  have  I  lost  by  my  wilful  and  rebellions  sin  !  I 
have  during  these  years  come  in  contact  with  many 
thousands  in  ditFerent  parts  of  the  Avorld,  in  the  most  in- 
teresting circumstances,  in  domestic  and  in  public  life,  in 
sickness,  family  distress,  and  on  deatli-beds.  How  much 
good  has  been  lost  and  evil  done,  by  the  absence  of 
that  real  earnestness  of  word,  look,  temper,  teaching  that 
all,  which  can  only  come  from  a  soul  in  a  right  state  with 
God,  and  which  never  can  be  imitated,  or  woidd  be  so 
only  by  hypocrisy.  What  good,  and  peace,  and  happiness 
have  I  lost  to  myself ! 

"There  is  another  thing  presses  itself  upon  me.  I 
know  as  surely  as  I  know  anything,  that  all  my  sin  has 
emanated  from  myself,  and  3et  I  do  believe  God  has 
brought  more  good  to  me  in  the  latter  end  by  this  very 
life  than  could  perhaps  have  been  l)rought  in  any  other 
way,  I  would  shudder  in  writing  this  if  it  appeared  to 
be  the  slightest  excuse  for  my  iniquities.  These,  I  repeat 
it,  were  mine.  But  I  think  I  have  a  glimpse  of  that  marvel 
of  Providence  by  which  evil — while  it  is  nothing  but  evil 
— is  yet  by  infinite  wisdom  and  love  made,  like  a  wild 
stream,  an  instrument  of  God. 

"  Let  me  not  forget  to  mention  three  men  from  whom  I 
have  received  unspeakable  good — Thomas  Arnold,  Alex- 
ander Scott,  and  dear  John  Campbell. 

"  I  go  to  Glasgow  to-morrow.  Cholera  rages,  but  I  join 
my  family,  casting  my  care  on  God.  Lord  Jesus,  my  ever- 
present  and  ever-loving  Saviour,  I  desire  to  abide  in  Thee, 
to  trust  in  Thy  life.  Thy  grace.  Thy  character.  Thy  ways. 

"  Lord  I  am  thine  !  for  time  and  eternity.  Ameu  and 
Amen." 


The  condition  of  the  Church  still  weighed  iLoayily 
on  him.  Church  questions  were  in  his  eyes  secondary 
to  the  grand  end  for  which  all  Churches  exist,  the 
raising  up  of  living  Christians  ;  and  so  day  and  night 
he  pondered  over  the  best  methods  for  stimulating  a 
healthy  zeal.     There  were  many  clergymen  in  his  own 


302  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

iu'ip:libour]iood  niid  elsewhere,  who  sympathized  with 
him  in  his  anxieties,  and  with  wliom  he  frequently 
exchanged  ideas  on  this  subject.  Eut  as  there  was 
no  organ  through  which  the  Church  might  address, 
her  members  on  questions  of  Christian  life  and  work,  it 
was  resolved  that  a  magazine  should  be  started,  con- 
taining papers  for  Sabbath  reading,  and  to  be  sold  at 
the  lowest  possible  price.  lie  thus  became  editor  of 
the  Ediahiu'ijh  Christian  Magazine.^  a  monthly  periodical 
published  by  Messrs.  Paton  and  Eitchie,  in  Edinburgh. 
Short  sermons,  papers  on  social  and  scientific  subjects, 
biographies,  missionary  intelligence,  articles  upon 
parochial  and  church  organization,  and  notices  of 
books,  formed  the  contents. 

The  Christian  Magazine  never  attained  a  very  large 
circulation ;  but  the  editor  was  well  satisfied  in 
having  an  audience  of  5,000  families  to  which  he 
could  address  himself,  and  there  can  be  no  doubt  that 
the  appeals  made  in  its  pages  on  behalf  of  missionary 
enterprise,  and  organized  parochial  work,  did  much  to 
quicken  a  religious  life  which  was  broad  and  tolerant 
as  well  as  earnest. 

Many  of  the  articles  and  stories  which  he  afterwards 
wrote  for  Good  Words^  appeared  in  an  embryo  form  in 
the  '  Blue '  Magazine^  as  it  was  popularly  called  ;  but 
the  greater  portion  of  his  contributions  consisted  of 
short,  practical  papers  intended  for  the  firesides  of 
Churchmen.  During  the  first  year  of  the  magazine 
(1849-50),  he  wrote  more  than  twenty  articles,  and 
among  these  a  useful  series  on  Family  Education, 
which  was  afterwards  expanded  into  a  volumec* 
*  "  The  Homo  School." 


LAST  YEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  303 

A  series  of  papers  on  Drunkenness,  which  he  con- 
tributed during  1850-51,  was  reprinted  under  another 
title.--' 

lie  was  a  member  of  the  General  Assembly  of  J  849, 
and  spoke  at  considerable  length  on  Education,  the 
Continental  Churches,  India  Mission,  and  Endow- 
ment. In  his  speech  on  the  last  named  subject,  he 
expressed,  with  great  energy,  his  favourite  idea  of  the 
Christian  congregation  being  a  society  charged  with 
the  blessed  mission  of  meeting  the  manifold  evils  of 
society,  physical  and  social  as  well  as  spiritual,  and 
urged  the  necessity  of  bringing  living  Christian  men 
into  personal  contact  with  the  poor,  the  ignorant,  and 
the  ungodly.  His  reflections  during  the  disturbances 
of  1818,  and  the  deep  impression  made  on  him  by  the 
Glasgow  mob,  found  a  voice  for  themselves  on  this 
occasion. 


**  The  question  appeared  to  him  to  lie  between  the  needy 
masses  upon  the  one  hand,  and  ihose  who  were  able  to 
help  them  upon  the  other — between  those  who  were  poor 
temporally  and  spiritually,  and  those  upon  whom  God  had 
bestowed  temporal  and  spiritual  blessings.  The  object  of 
endowed  territorial  work  was  to  brinsc  them  in  contact 
upon  the  field  of  the  Christian  Church.  They  wished 
the  poor  to  meet  the  rich  there,  that  the  rich  might  assist 
them  ;  they  wished  the  ignorant  to  meet  the  well  informed 
there,  that  they  might  receive  of  their  knowledge.  They 
wished  the  suffering,  the  destitute,  and  the  afflicted,  to 
meet  the  kind,  and  sympathizing,  and  Christian-hearted 
there,  and  from  that  union  of  fulness  and  emptiness,  to 
enable  those  who  have,  to  give  to  those  who  stand  in  need. 
Every  man  in  that  vast  mass  of  humanity  had  immense 

*  "A  Plea  for  Temperance." 


304  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

influence,  and  if  he  could  not  be  made  great  for  good  he 
niikdit  be  made  ijreat  for  evil.  The  hand  that  could  use 
the  hammer,  could  seize  the  firebrand  ;  the  tongue  that 
could  sing  praises  to  God,  might  become  voluble  in  blas- 
phemy and  sedition.  The  man  with  a  strong  head  and 
heart,  but  uninformed,  might  gather  his  fellow-workmen 
around  him  in  hundreds  and  thousands — he  might  speak 
to  them  of  the  separation  between  man  and  man,  with  an 
eloquence  that  rung  in  every  man's  heart,  because  they  felt 
it  to  be  true  ;  he  might  speak  of  those  who  were  in  comfort, 
but  who  did  not  care  for  those  in  misery;  he  might  speak 
of  those  who  were  educated,  but  who  cared  not  for  those  in 
ignorance ;  and  that  mass  might  become  like  a  mighty 
avalanche  set  loose  from  its  cold  solitude,  and  descending 
into  their  valleys,  crush  the  commercial  prosperity  and 
institutions  of  the  country  ;  and  all  the  while  they  would 
feel  it  to  be  a  righteous  punishment,  on  the  })art  of  a 
righteous  God,  for  their  selfishness  and  apathy." 


From  his  JoimNAL  : — 

"  I  call  individualism  the  embodiment  of  all  those 
theories  which  would  throw  man  back  upon  himself,  make 
himself  the  centre,  and  referring  all  things  to  that  centre, 
measure  all  things  from  it.  It  sees  no  law,  no  rule,  no  end, 
no  will  beyond  self.  The  grand  text  of  Emerson,  '  I  am  a 
man,'  is  (in  his  sense  of  the  f)hrase)  its  expression.  What 
is  society  to  me  ?  What  is  Luther  ?  What  is  the  Church, 
or  the  Bible,  or  Christ,  or  God  ?  '  I  am  a  man.'  This  is 
Selbsfst(indi(jkeit  with  a  vengeance  !  A  man  refuses  to 
recognise  or  worship  the  personal  God,  and  ends  by  wor- 
shipping himself. 

"  Self-destruction  is  the  opposite  of  this,  and  expresses 
the  essence  of  those  systems  by  which  the  hidividual  is 
annihilated.  Popery  is  its  ecclesiastical  ideal,  and  desj)ot- 
ism  its  civil.  The  Jesuit  maxim,  '  be  in  all  things  a  dead 
man,'  is  the  opposite  pole  from  Emei*son.  If  the  one 
system  deifies  man,  the  other  annihilates  him,  though  it 
must  in  justice  be  added,  as  a  professed  means  of  ulti- 
mately deifying  him.     Socialism  seems  to  me  to  be  the 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  305 

Devil's  tertiwrn  quid.  It  would  seek  to  fill  up  the  longings 
in  man  after  union  in  something  higher  or  something 
beyond  himself,  and  at  the  same  time  afford  him  the 
fullest  out-going  for  his  individualism.  It  is  society  sacri- 
ficed to  the  individual.  Romanism  would  have  the  indi- 
vidual sacrificed  to  the  society  called  the  Church.  These 
two  poles  are  always  producing  each  other.  It  is  no 
wonder  that  the  ecclesiastical  and  civil  systems  which  would 
destroy  the  individual  should  produce  the  re-action  of 
pantheism  and  republicanism,  which  would  embody  man's 
individualism  religiously  and  civilly. 

"  What  is  the  Christian  Tertiwrn  Quid  ? 

"  1. — Unity  with  a  personal  God  revealed  in  a  personal 
Saviour.  This  destroys  individualism  in  so  far  as  it  estab- 
lishes personal  responsibility,  and  places  the  man  as  a  part 
of  a  system,  in  which  not  he,  but  a  personal  God,  is  the 
centre,  a  God  Whom  we  ought  to  love  and  serve.  Indi- 
vidualism cannot  co-exist  with  the  ideas  of  ought  to  love 
and  serve.  These  destroy  Selbststundigkeit.  To  recognise 
the  existence  of  light,  is  at  once  to  give  up  the  notion 
that  the  eye  exists  for  itself,  and  by  itself,  as  a  self- 
sustaining  and  self-satisfying  organ. 

"  2. — Union  with  man  through  God.  I  soy  through 
God,  because  we  can  only  find  our  true  relationship  to  any 
point  within  the  circle  by  seeing  our  mutual  relationship 
to  the  centre,  God  our  Creator,  as  the  bond  which  unites 
us  to  man.  God  our  Father  is  the  bond  which  unites  us 
to  all  His  true  children.  The  family,  the  neighbourhood, 
the  citizenship,  the  state,  are  the  outlets  of  our  social 
tendencies  to  men,  in  God  our  Creator. 

"  The  Church  is  specially  the  outlet  of  our  social  ten 
dencies  to  God  our  Redeemer.  There  is  here  a  healtby 
union  of  our  individualism  with  socialism.  The  indi- 
vidual is  preserved.  His  personality  is  not  destroyed — it  is 
developed.  Free-will,  responsibility,  the  necessity  of  seeing 
and  knowinsr  for  himself  are  recoo^nised.  In  Heaven  he 
can  say,  *I  am  a  man.'  His  union  uith  God  is  essential 
to  the  development  of  his  individuality,  just  as  light  is 
essential  to  the  health  of  the  eye.  The  social  life  is  also 
preserved.      Tbe  attraction  of  God   renders   the  attraction 

VOL.    I.  X 


3o6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

of  man  necessary.  Tlie  family  relation  apjjointrd  hy  God, 
is  the  school  in  whicli  men  are  trained  for  the  family  of 
man.  The  child,  in  spite  of  himself,  finds  liimseK  a 
brother,  or  son,  and  enters  life  a  part  of  a  s3-stem,  to  whoso 
•well-being  he  must  contribute  his  portion  by  the  sacritice 
of  self,  and  in  this  very  sacrifice  find  himself  enriciied. 
The  necessity  of  labour  is  another  bond,  and  so  is  the 
necessity  of  living.  The  man  must  remain  poor  in  head 
unless  he  receives  knowledge,  and  poor  in  pocket  unless  ho 
receives  work,  and  poor  in  heart  unless  he  receives  love. 
.And  all  this  receiving  implies  giving,  whether  it  be  faith, 
or  work,  or  love,  in  return  ;  and  thus  bond  after  bond 
draws  man  out  of  himself  to  man. 

"  No  wonder  Pantheists  and  Socialists  hate  the  personal 
God,  the  family,  the  Word,  the  Church." 

To  Mr.  James  MTheeson  (an  Elder  in  Loudoun) : — 

Dalkeith,  Fehruarij  17,  1849. 

"  I  need  hardly  tell  you  that  I  very  sincerely  sympathise 
with  you,  and  with  all  my  dear  old  friends  who  are  now  in 
the  midst  of  such  sore  and  solemn  trials.  I  fancy  myself 
among  you,  going  from  house  to  house.  I  see  your  faces, 
and  know  how  you  will  all  think  and  feel.  I  wish  you 
would  let  me  know  who  have  been  carried  off.  From  my 
parish  visitation  book,  I  can  recall  the  face  and  character 
of  every  one  I  knew  in  the  parish,  as  well  as  I  could  the 
day  I  left  it,  and  I  feel  anxious  to  know  who  have  been 
removed. 

"  How  soothing  to  feel  that  we  are  not  lost  in  the  big 
crowd,  that  our  case  is  not  overlooked  by  Him  who  is 
guiding  the  stars — but  that  His  eye  of  love  rests  upon  us, 
and  that  He  is  attending  to  each  of  us  as  really  and  truly 
as  He  did  to  Martha,  and  Mary,  and  Lazarus  whom  He 
loved  ! " 

To  John  Mackintosh  (in  Eome)  :— 

Dalkeith,  Drcemler  25,  1849. 
"  Your  letter  inflamed   n)y  blc)od   and   fired   my  brain, 
and  unless  I  knew  from  experience  that  '  we  may  not  hope 


LAST  YEARS  AT  DALKEITH. 


307 


from  outward  forms  to  live  the  (what  ?)  passion  and  the  joy 
Clife  ?)  whose  fountains  are  within,'  I  should  certainly 
have  been  unhappy.  Dear  John,  all  our  happiness  flows 
from  our  blessed  Redeemer.  He  divideth  to  each,  gifts, 
talents,  place,  work,  circumstances,  as  seemeth  good  to 
himself  Blessed  is  the  man  who  can  trust  Him,  and 
take  what  He  gives,  using  it  for  the  end  for  which  it  is 
given.  So,  dear  John,  I  will  not  envy  thee  !  Thine  is 
Rome,  mine  is  home.  Thine  the  glories  of  the  past,  mine 
labour  for  the  glories  of  the  future  without  the  past. 
Thine  the  eternal  city  with  all — all — art,  music,  ruins, 
visions,  ideal  day  dreams,  choking  unutterable  reminis- 
cences ;  a  spiritual  present,  impalpable,  fascinating ; — 
all — all  that  would  make  me  laugh,  weep,  scream,  sing — 
all,  and  more  are  thine.  So  be  it.  Mine  is  a  different 
lot,  but  both  are  given  us  by  Him,  to  be  used  for  His  king- 
dom and  glory  ;— and  darling,  thou  wilt  so  use  them,  I 
am  sure  !  The  spirit  of  the  greatest  man  Rome  ever  held 
wdthin  her  walls,  even  that  old  tent-maker,  he  who  after 
his  wintry  cruise  came  Aveary  and  careworn  up  the  Appian 
way— his  humble  and  heroic  spirit  will  be  thine  !  and  His, 
too,  by  Whom  he  lived  !  For  this  day  ('tis  past  12  a.m.  !) 
reminds  me  Clirist  is  born,  and  the  world  of  Cicero  and 
Csesar  is  not  ours,  but  a  world  unseen  by  the  eye,  unheard 
by  the  ear ;  a  world  whose  glories  are  in  dim  wynd  and 
dusky  tenement  as  much  as  in  Rome.  So,  dear  John,  I 
will  do  His  will  here,  and  thou  there,  and  if  we  be  faithful, 
we  shall  have  a  glorious  life  of  it  together  somewhere  else 
and  for  ever !  Yet,  would  I  were  with  thee  !  It  is  my 
Aveakness ;  I  can  guide  it  only,  change  it  I  cannot. 

*'  Everything  in  our  land  is  flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable. 
Don't  beheve  me.  I  presume  it  is  the  best  land  on  earth  ; 
but  I  have  not  moved  for  months  from  home. 

"  What  of  the  Jews  in  Rome  ?  Let  us  labour  for  them, 
but  confess  that  their  day  is  not  yet  come,  nor,  I  think, 
dawjed.  This  is  my  latest  conclusion.  Keep  thy  heart, 
dear,  st.  Were  I  in  your  place,  I  believe  I  should  be  ruined ; 
thus  (  see  Christ's  love  in  keeping  me  at  home.  Popery  ! 
'  Thu  Bible  without  the  spirit  is  a  sundial  by  moonlight' 
Weil    done,   old   Coleridge !     I  have    long    believed    that 

X   2 


3o8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Popory  will  be  the  pantlieistic  re-action  of  the  latter  days. 
IVcsbyterianisin  in  our  country  is  a  poor  atlair.  If  there  is 
to  be  a  Church  for  man  to  embrace  taste,  intellect,  genius, 
and  inspire  love,  V(;ueration,  awe,  and  if  that  Church  is  tc 
bo  a  visible  one,  our  Free  and  Bond  won't  be  among  the 
nuHibtjr.  We  are  sermonising  snobs.  But  I  rave  and  run 
on.  Don't  believe  me.  Short  of  heaven  tliere  is  no  ideal 
Church.  I  am  sure  of  this,  that  I  am  ri^dit  in  lovinjj 
Christ,  and  in  loving  Christians,  and  the  souls  of  men 
for  His  sake.  Beyond  this  twilight,  farther  on  darkness  ! 
AVh  it  are  you  doing  now  ?  Gazing  on  the  moon,  feasting 
on  Christmas  rites,  seeing,  hearing  ?     Ah,  me  !  " 

Fn^m  his  Father  : — 

Moffat,  1849. 

"  It  would  truly  give  me  real  delight  if  you  could  go 
to  London  and  act  as  my  substitute,  and  in  such  a  good 
cause.  The  i)oor  Highlands  and  Isles  are  as  worthy  of 
your  efforts  as  Germans  or  Jews  or  Indians,  and  they 
recjuire  it  just  as  much.  The  only  legacy  I  can  leave  you, 
is  an  interest,  a  heart-felt  interest  in  that  poor  people 
whose  blood  flows  in  your  veins.  Do,  my  dear  fellow, 
think  of  it." 

From  his  Note-Book: — 

"J.  Work  for  1850. — January  18.  It  is  now  being 
impressed  upon  minds,  slow  to  learn  from  anything  but 
facts,  that  the  Church  of  Scotland  is  daily  going  down  hill. 
We  are  weak,  weak  politically,  weak  in  the  hearty  attach- 
ment of  any  class — upper,  middle,  or  lower,  learned,  earnest 
or  pious — to  us,  as  a  Church  ;  there  is  no  State  party 
who  care  one  farthing  for  us  on  great,  national,  and 
righteous  principles.  Yet  all  this  would  not  necessarily  be 
evil  if  we  were  strong  Godward.  Nay,  it  might  prove  a 
blessing,  the  blessing  which  oft  springs  from  a  sore  chas- 
tisement. But  I  cannot  conceal  from  myself  that  we  have 
reached  the  depth  immediately  below  which  is  destruction, 
of  being  weak  towards  God  in  taith,  love,  hope,  devoted- 
ncss,  and  in  simple-mindedness  for  His  glory.      I  eannol 


LAST  YEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  309 

say  what  amount  of  good  may  exist  in  the  Church.  God 
knoweth  how  many  hidden  ones  it  may  contain  !  and  He 
may  see  many  tears  shed  in  secret,  and  may  hear  many 
groans  for  the  sins  of  Jerusalem,  and  many  prayers  may 
enter  His  ears  for  her  peace  and  prosperity.  But  sin  can 
be  seen.  The  evil  is  manifest,  and  what  is  bad  is  visible. 
There  is  sloth  and  an  easy  indifference  as  to  the  state  of  the 
Church.  No  searching,  as  far  as  man  knows,  to  find  out 
our  sins.  No  plans,  no  strivings  to  meet  difficulties  and 
evils,  to  do  our  work  as  we  should  do.  Everywhere  dis- 
union, separation,  men  flying  from  social  questions  which 
affect  the  body,  and  even  the  good  men  seeking  relief  in 
the  Spiritual  selfishness  of  personal  and  parish  work,  as  if 
terrified  to  look  at  things  within  and  around. 

"  In  these  circumstances  the  work  I  would  propose 
would  be  a  convocation  of  a  number  (however  small)  to 
inquire  into  the  state  of  Zion  ;  to  seek  out  and  apply  a 
remedy  ;  above  all,  to  do  the  work  of  works,  of  lying  pros- 
trate before  God,  and  asking,  in  earnest  prayer,  '  Lord, 
what  wilt  thou  have  us  to  do  ?'  " 

To  Mrs.  Dennistoun  : — 

DAIiKEITH,  Beft.  4th,  1850. 

"  I  am  here  all  alone — Skye  my  only  ""'■  companion — if 
I  except  my  constant  friends  in  the  book-shelves  who  chat 
with  me  day  and  night.  I  am  very  jolly,  because  very 
busy  ;  not  that  I  by  any  means  advocate  this  bachelor 
life,  for  unless  I  looked  forward  to  my  sister's  return,  I 
would  instantly  advertise,  my  parochial  visitations  pre- 
venting me  for  some  time  from  personally  attending  to 
this  duty  ;  I  often  think  Falstaft"s  resolution  was  not  a 
bad  one,  '  I'll  turn  a  weaver  and  sing  psalms  !  Before  I 
lead  this  life  longer,  I'll  sew  nether  socks,  and  foot  them 
too  ! ' 

"  The  only  defect  in  Skye  is,  that  I  never  can  get  him 
to  laugh.  He  is  painfully  grave.  He  seems  sometimes 
to  make  an  effort,  but  it  passes  oft'  like  electricity  by  his 
tail,  which  becomes  tremulous  with  emotion." 

*  A  favom-itR  terrier. 


310  LIFE  OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

Tlio  following  bit  of  nonsense  was  sent  as  a  quiz 
on  some  nioiuhcrs  of  the  home  household,  who  were 
fascinated  by  the  description  of  jn-imitive  life  and 
domestic  happiness  in  the  Landes  of  France  as  com- 
municated by  a  French  friend. 


August,  I80O. 

"  It  requires  no  small  effort  in  me  to  write  to  you. 
It  disturbs  my  deep  repose  ;  it  ruffles  my  '  calm,'  '  so 
very  calm  from  day  to  day.'  It  causes  mov^ement  of 
my  hand  and  thought  in  my  brain  which  are  habitual  to 
neither ;  but  as  you  kindly  wish  me  to  write  to  you, 
and  flatter'  me  with  the  assurance  that  my  beloveil 
parents  will  not  consider  an  epistle  from  me  an  irreverent 
intrusion  upon  their  time,  I  shall  forthwith  give  you  a 
simple  account  of  my  daily  habits.  I  go  to  bed  about 
ten  or  half  past  ;  it  depends  on  circumstances.  I  awake 
about  eight,  and  lie  thinking  till  about  nine  or  ten.  This 
morning  I  fancied  that  I  became  a  poor  man,  and  sold 
my  books  and  took  a  little  cottage  somewhere,  with 
small  rooms  and  nice  roses,  and  one  cow  and  some  hens  ; 
and  then  I  just  thought  how  sweet  it  would  be  to  have 
mamma  and  pa[)a,  and  all  my  brothers  and  sisters,  and 
nephews  and  nieces,  and  uncles  and  aunts,  all  to  live 
together  for  a  long,  long  time,  and  to  lie  on  the  grass  and 
to  feed  the  pigs  and  the  little  hens,  and  dig  tlie  garden,  and 
make  our  own  clothes  and  shoes.  My  uncles  would  make 
the  shoes  and  the  clothes,  and  all  my  sisters  and  aunts 
would  spin,  and  darling  George  and  Donald  would  write 
poetry  and  work  in  the  garden  and  sing,  and  dear  papa 
and  maunna  would  sit  in  large  arm  chairs  and  give  us  their 
blessing  every  morning  and  evening,  and  tell  us  nice  stories 
about  the  Highlands,  and  I  would  keep  accounts  and 
everything  in  order!  Everything  would  be  irithin  our- 
selves. And  then  we  should  see  all  our  friends  and  rela- 
tions, quietly,  comfortably,  and  there  would  be  no  bustle, 
no  dirty  railroads  or  towns — all  grass  and  vegetables  and 
plenty.    My  blessing  upon  such  peaceful  domestic  happiness  ! 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  311 

I   know  my   venerated  father   will  rejoice  at  my  pictura 


I  am  no  more  the  wild  man — 


but  this— 


or  this— 


or  not  intellectual 

TVS 


Jicao   111c,     >">' Y  'J   -■-  IS 

T,    'what  is  life  A(^ 

ot  have  peace  ?  •'Xl  \ 

r>f    oil    tliic   vnnt.  ''V   ' 


I  never   meddle  with    politics    or 

church    affairs.      It  does    one    no 

good  I  think.     '  Bless  me,'  says  I 

to  Elizabeth   Story, 

worth   if  we   cannot 

What  is  the  good  of  all  this  rant 

and  bustle  ? '     'It  rises  my  nerves,' 

says  she.      'And  mine  too,'  says  I. 

'  It's  no  wonder,'  says  she.     '  'Deed 

it  is  not,'   said    I.      '  It  would  be  a  wonder  if  it  didn't,* 

says  she.    '  Wouldn't  it  ? '  says  I.      '  In  course   it  would,' 

says  she.      *  I   would   think   so,'   says    I.      '  And  no   one 

would  differ  from   you,   sir,'    says   she.      '  I  believe  not,' 

says  I.      '  I  would  at  least   think  so,'  says   she.      *  I   am 

certain  of  it,'  says  I.     '  I  make  no  doubt  myself  at  all  of 

it,'  says  she.      '  Nor  anybody  else,'   says   I,  and   thus  we 

spend  a  quiet,  peaceful,  calm  half-hour." 


312  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Thcbep^inning  of  tliis  year,  1851,  was  marked  by  two 
(3vciits  Avhicli  had  an  important  iuHueiicc  on  his  future 
life.  On  the  23rd  of  January  he  heard,  with  great  pain, 
of  the  death  of  his  valued  friend,  Dr.  Black,  minister 
of  the  Barony,  Glasgow,  and  in  a  few  weeks  afterwards 
he  learned  that  the  congregation  were  anxious  that 
ho  should  be  presented  to  the  vacant  parish.  Dr. 
Black  had  on  his  death-bed  expressed  the  desire 
that  Norman  Macleod  should  succeed  him,  and  the 
people  were  now  unanimous  in  petitioning  Govern- 
ment to  that  effioot. 

To  his  Father  : — 

January  31s<,  1851. 
"  I  mean  strictly  to  avoid  all  movement  on  my  own 
part  in  regard  to  the  Barony ;  nor  do  I  wish  you  to 
move  in  it.  The  session  and  people  knoAV  me.  They  are 
acquainted  with  lay  preaching  and  public  character.  If 
the  parish  is  offered  to  me  in  such  an  unanimous  wa}'  as 
will  satisfy  my  mind  that  I  am  the  choice  of  the  parties 
most  interested  in  obtaining  a  minister,  I  shall  feel  it  my 
duty  to  accept  it.  If  there  is  a  canvass  dividing  the  con- 
gregation, I  shall  forbid  my  name  to  be  mentioned.  I  am 
willing  to  go  or  stay,  as  God  shall  see  it  to  be  best  for  my 
own  good,  and  the  good  of  souls." 

To  his  Mother  : — 

1851. 
"  Believe  me  I  am  disciplined  to  be  a  far  more  peaceful 
man  than  I  was.  My  ambition  has  been  sobered  by  ex- 
perience. I  know  what  I  am  not  and  what  I  am.  I  am 
not  a  man  of  genius,  or  of  power,  or  of  learning,  and  .can 
do  nothing  great  in  the  world's  sense  ;  but  by  the  grace  of 
God  I  can  be  kind  and  good,  and  earnest  and  useful  ;  and 
can  bring  the  souls  of  dying  men  to  their  Saviour  for 
rest  and  peace.  If  God  gives  me  the  ten  talents  of  the 
Barony,  T  shall  not  receive  them  with  fear  as  if  He  were 


LAST  YEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  3*3 

a  hard  master,  but  witli  solemn  thankfulness  and  humble 
praise,  hoping  \)-^  His  grace  to  make  them  ten  talents  more. 
So,  dear,  your  prayers  have  been  heard." 

In  the  following  month,  and  while  the  question  of 
the  Barony  was  still  in  suspense,  the  unexpected 
tidings  reached  him  that  John  Mackintosh  was  dying 
at  Tubingen.  There  was  no  man  on  earth  whom 
Norman  loved  more  tenderly,  and  the  news  over- 
whelmed him.  All  other  engagements  were  at  once 
thrown  aside,  and  on  the  11th  of  February  he  started 
for  the  Continent.  It  had  been  deemed  advisable  to 
remove  Mackintosh  from  Tubingen  to  the  picturesque 
little  town  of  Cannstadt,  in  the  neighbourhood  of 
Stuttgart,  and  Norman  remained  there  until  the  7th 
of  March,  when  he  went  for  a  brief  visit  to  Dr.  Barth, 
the  famous  missionary,  at  Calw.  On  the  lOtli  he 
returned  to  Cannstadt,  and  bade  farewell  to  Mackin- 
tosh on  the  morning  of  the  11th.  That  very  evening, 
with  a  swiftness  that  was  quite  unexpected,  the  end 
came,  and  while  Norman,  in  ignorance  of  the  event, 
was  prosecuting  his  journey  homewards,  his  dearest 
brother  had  entered  into  rest. 

From,  his  Jouenal  : — 

"  February  7. — This  has  been  a  day  of  heavy  affliction, 
for  I  have  heard  of  the  death-sickness  of  my  darling  John 
Mackintosh — my  more  than  friend — a  part  of  my  own 
soul. 

"  This  day  also  brought  intelligence  of  what  I  was  led  to 
expect ;  that  there  is  such  perfect  unanimity  among  the 
Bfirony  people  as  will  insure  me  the  parish.  But  to  enter 
it  over  the  body  of  my  dear  friend  Dr.  Black,  and  John 
dying !     Oh,  my  Father  !  teach  me  ! 


314  I-ItE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  My  dear  friend  !  Never,  never  have  I  known  his 
equal,  never !  So  pure,  so  true  and  genuine,  so  heavenly- 
minded  and  serene,  so  young  and  joyous,  yet  so  old  ;uid 
sober ;  so  loving  and  utterly  unselfish,  a  beautiful,  beauti- 
ful character;  the  modesty  and  tenderness  of  a  gentle  girl, 
■with  the  manly  courage  of  a  matured  Christian  ;  knowing 
the  Avorld,  yet  not  of  it ;  mingling  in  it  with  a  great 
broad-heartedness,  yet  unstained  by  a  single  spot ;  warm 
and  refreshing  and  life-giving  as  the  sun,  yet  uncontami- 
nated  by  all  it  shone  on.  But  I  cannot  utter  my  reve- 
rential and  loving  feelings  towards  my  dearest  and  best ; 
and  can  it  be  that  he,  lie  is  dying !  I  feel  the  whole 
earth  slipping  away  from  me  and  only  Jesus  remaiuing." 

''Tuesday,  February  11. — This  day  I  intend  going  to  Tu- 
bingen to  see  my  dear  John.  I  am  not  conscious  of  any 
selfish  motive,  unless  the  craving  desire  to  see,  help,  and 
comfort,  and,  it  may  be,  bid  farewell  to  my  dearest  friend 
be  selfishness. 

"What  shall  be  the  end  thereof?" 

To  JoiiN^  Mackixtosh,  fxt  Cannstarlt  (writtfin  aftor  leaving  him  on  the 
Friday,  Miu'Lh  7th,  to  return  on  the  Monday  mornmg  to  spend 
his  hist  day  with  hiui)  : — 

Calw,  half-past  Jive  v. "St.,  Friday,  March  1th,  1851. 

"  Well,  darling  John  !  More  for  my  own  comfort  than 
yours,  yet  also  to  cheer  you  up  a  bit,  I  embrace  the  first 
moment  given  me  to  tell  you  my  news.  Like  the  woman 
who  shows  Roslin  Chapel,  I  must  begin  at  the  beginning 
— i.e.,  from  Stuttgart. 

"  I  found  myself  at  half-past  nine  in  an  Eihcagen  Avith 
two  horses,  and  no  passenger  but  myself.  Opposite  mo 
was  an  old  condtictor  who  had  grown  grey  in  the  service 
of  that  mysterious  Prince  of  Thurn  uvd  Taxis,  whose 
dominions  seem  to  be  Eihvagens  and  extra  posts,  and  his 
subjects  Schwagers  and  conductors.  j\Iy  companion  was 
most  acrreeable  ;  blessed  me  when  I  sneezed,  oflfeivd  me 
Schnajyps  from  his  flask,  and  gladly  took  the  half  of  my 
dinner  from  me,  by  way  of  showing  his  love  to  me.  He 
was  a  thorough  Swabian,  and  therefore  I  did  not  always 
understand    him,  but  I  managed  by  a  series  of  nods,  inti- 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  315 

mating  '  I  wouldn't  wonder,'  *  I  suppose  so,'  to  impress 
him  profoundly  with  my  intelligence. 

"  The  road  was  uphill,  the  day  cold,  and  very  snowy.  The 
scenery  consisted  of  bare  white  fields,  with  cloaks  an  1  hats  of 
fir  plantations,  here  and  there  a  steeple.  I  pass(  d  through 
sundry  villages,  but  I  hardly  know  yet  where  I  am.  Calw 
is  in  some  valley  beside  some  river,  having  streets,  Gast- 
haiiser,  and  magistrates ;  and,  it  is  said,  four  thousand 
inhabitants.  The  whole  city  is  for  the  present  concen- 
trated in  dear  Dr.  Earth.  He  received  me  with  open 
arms,  hugged  me,  kissed  me,  and  did  my  heart  a  power  of 
good  in  five  minutes.  He  had  an  excellent  dinner  waitinof 
and  two  friends  to  meet  me. 

"  For  the  last  hour  I  have  been  enjoying  the  dear  man's 
society  and  examining  his  house,  and  I  assure  you  it  is 
worth  a  visit.  He  has  a  suite  of  five  rooms,  entering  one 
into  the  other.  The  first  is  a  bedroom  ;  the  second  a 
sitting-room  ;  the  third  his  study  ;  the  fourth,  a  nice  bed- 
room ;  the  fifth  a  missionary  museum.  A  more  jolly 
ideal  housey  you  never  were  in  !  Everything  about  it 
enlarges  the  mind,  and  drives  one's  thoughts  to  every 
part  of  the  globe.  The  pictures  of  missionaries  and  mission 
scenes  that  cover  the  walls  of  the  rooms,  the  maps,  plans, 
books,  all  are  enlarging  to  the  spirit.  The  very  clock 
which  is  now  ticking  beside  me  is  itself  a  poem.  It  has 
in  its  dial  one  large  Avatch  surrounded  by  four  small  ones. 
The  middle  one  counts  German  time.  The  others  the 
time  at  Pekin,  Otaheite,  New  York,  and  Jerusalem  !  At 
this  moment  it  is  a  quarter  to  six  here ;  five  minutes  to 
one  A.M.  in  Pekin  (the  emperor  snores  !)  ;  half-past  seven 
P.M.  in  Jerusalem  (the  sun  is  shining  softly  on  Olivet)  ; 
a  quarter-past  six  in  Otaheite  ;  ten  minutes  past  mid- 
day in  money-making  New  York,  (Wall  Street  is  full 
of  business  !) 

"  The  missionary  museum  is  exceedingly  interesting. 
It  would  take  days  to  examine  it  fully.  The  fruits, 
dresses,  minerals,  idols,  &c.,  are  from  mission  stations. 
One  little  trifle  struck  me.  It  was  a  bit  of  pure  white 
marble  from  the  basement  stone  of  Solomon's  temple. 
It  shows,   I    think,    that    the   whole    temple    must    havo 


3i6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

been  of  wliitc  marble  (which  I  never  knew  before)  ; 
and  if  so,  how  pure,  how  glorious  in  the  sun's  rays — wliat 
a  beautiful  type  of  Christ's  Church  ! 

"  Dr.  Barth  received  a  letter  at  dinner-time  from  the 
Bishop  of  Jerusalem.  He  keeps  up  a  correspondence  with 
missionaries  in  all  parts  of  the  world,  and  knows  more  of 
the  men  and  their  missions  than  any  other  man  living. 

"  Ninp.  P.M. — We  have  had  much  delightful  conversation 
ngarding  missions  and  missionaries.  Our  very  supper 
tasted  of  the  work,  for  it  consisted  of  reindeer  tongue  sent 
by  the  Labrador  missionaries  ! 

"  And  now,  darling,  I  must  stop.  You  know  how 
much  my  thoughts,  my  prayers,  my  heart  and  spirit,  all  are 
with  you.  Every  hour  the  parting  becomes  more  real, 
more  solemn.  Nothing  keeps  up  my  heart  but  that  which 
keeps  up  your  own — '  It  is  God's  will — His  sweet  will ! ' 

"  How  glorious,  how  intensely  blessed,  to  feel  that  we  are 
in  Christ,  all  of  us  '  Oh,  those  blessed  days  I  have  |)assed 
with  you  ! — Heaven,  in  spite  of  all  darkness.  Is  it  memory 
already  ?  It  is  not.  I  am  Avith  you,  beside  you,  among 
you  all.  Oh,  my  dearest  of  brothers,  may  Jesus  shine  on 
you  day  and  night,  and  may  you  shine  through  His 
indwelling.     God  bless  you,  dearest.      Farewell." 


To  the  Same  : — 


Carlsruiie,  Sitturdny  Eveniug,  luilf-past  six, 
Mnrch  Sth,  1851. 


"  Dearest  and  best  of  earthly  Brothers  ! 

"  I  left  dear  old  Barth  this  morning  at  tpn.  I  do  think 
that  he  and  his  house  are  the  most  perfect  ideals  of  what 
missionary  archhisliops  should  be  and  should  have.  Only 
picture  the  old  fellow  resting  his  feet  on  a  stuffed  tiger  from 
Abyssinia,  giving  me  at  breakfast  honey  from  Jerusalem,  and 
a  parting  glass  of  wine  from  Lebanon  !  Is  it  not  perfect  ? 
And  then  his  apostolic  look  and  conversation  !  What  a  busy 
man  he  is  !  Besides  sui)erintending  the  books  published 
by  the  Cahuer  Verein  (most  of  which  he  has  written  him- 
self), he  edits  five  journals  monthly — one  for  the  young, 
of  eighty  pages,  and  four  missionary  journals  making 
fifty-six   pages  ;   in  all,  one  hundred  and   thirty-six  pages 


LAST  YEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  317 

every  month  !  His  books  have  been  translated  into  seven- 
teen different  languages.  It  is  really  most  ennobling  and 
elevating  to  one's  spirit  to  see  that  old  man,  so  plain  and 
simple,  yet,  there  in  his  humble  house,  corresponding  with 
every  part  of  the  globe,  watching  day  by  day  the  spread 
of  Christ's  kingdom,  visiting  with  his  spirit  and  heart  every 
scene  of  missionary  labour,  and  thoroughly  acquainted 
with  them  all.  This  is  being  a  king  indeed.  Surely  '  we 
can  make  our  lives  sublime '  by  doing  tlte  work  Christ  has 
given  us.  I  think  Barth  is  more  of  a  prince,  a  governor, 
a  general,  than  any  of  the  reigning  monarchs  of  Europe. 
He  has  made  me  feel  more  how  grand  and  glorious  a 
position  in  the  universe  a  true-hearted  minister  may  occupy. 
May  God  make  me  such,  and  '  I  shall  pity  Ctesar.' 

"  Well,  dear,  after  embracing  and  re-embracing,  I  parted 
very  thankful.  He  loves  you  very  much,  and  it  was  such  a 
comfort  to  have  one  with  me  who  did  so,  and  who,  Avith 
me,  would  thank  our  most  gracious  Lord  in  your  behalf 

"  I  got  into  a  half-open  cab  at  ten.  It  was  snowing 
and  very  cold,  and  we  contemplated  taking  a  sledge.  But 
the  Schwager  promised  he  would  convey  me  safely.  The 
road  was  execrable.  Nothing  out  of  the  backwoods  worse. 
We  took  three  and  a  half  hours  to  drive  twelve  miles.  It 
lay  at  first  along  a  valley  which  must  be  exquisite  in 
summer,  and  then  passed  up  and  over  a  high  hill,  thick 
with  trees,  which  showered  the  snow  upon  us  as  their 
branches  swept  over  the  cab.  Once  or  twice  I  made  up 
my  mind  for  a  jolly  good  upset,  but  the  Sehtvager,  by 
hanging  on  occasionally  on  the  up-side,  preserved  the 
equilibrium." 

To 


Off  Maintz,  ten  o'clock,  Wednesday,  March  12th,  1851. 

"How  my  spirit  lingers  in  that  lonely  room  where  I 
was  last  with  him  before  five  yesterday  morning  !  It  was 
very  solemn  and  very  memorable.  The  candle  was  in 
the  other  room,  and  I  asked  him  in  the  dark  how  he 
Avas.  He  had  passed  another  night  of  weary  tossings 
to  and  fro.  Yet  to  hear  him  say  in  the  darkness, 
'I  wish  I  could  sing!     I  should  give  glory  to  God!'     I 


3i8  LIFE  UF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

feel  tliiit  -vvc  have  taken  in  but  very  partially  the  heaven- 
sent lesson  taught  us,  in  that  beautiful  character.  But 
such  a  lesson  can  only  be  truly  learned  by  a  patient  and 
cheerful  following  of  CJn-ist,  seeing  what  He  would  have 
us  outwardly  do  and  inwardly  be.  To  sec,  to  do,  to 
fee,  requires  that  right  state  of  spirit  which  is  main- 
tained by  a  daily  waiting  on  Clu-ist  and  a  strength- 
ening of  our  faith  in  Him,  as  our  only  sure  and  our 
best  guide  in  all  things,  as  giving  us  in  everything  the 
best  things  for  us,  and  in  His  own  way.  It  is  not  necessary 
for  us  to  impose  burdens  on  ourselves,  to  whip  ourselves 
with  cords,  or  to  cast  ourselves  on  a  funeral  pile.  God  is 
rich  in  mercy,  and  He  may  sanctify  us  by  what  He  gives 
as  well  as  by  what  He  takes  away  ;  nor  is  it  necessary  for 
us  to  pain  our  hearts  by  determining  Avhat  we  shall  do  in 
such  and  such  circumstances.  The  Lord  shuts  us  up  to 
one  thing :  '  Do  what  is  right  ;  if  you  wish  it,  I  will 
teach  thee.'  Each  day  has  its  own  duties,  and  trials,  and 
difficulties.  God  does  not  tell  us  to  take  care  of  the 
week,  month,  or  year,  but  of  the  day  or  hour ;  not  of  the 
next  possible  mile  of  the  journey,  but  of  the  certain  step 
which  must  be  taken  for  the  present.  AVe  require  grace 
to  receive  His  mercies  as  much  as  to  receive  His  chastise- 
ments ;  in  neither  case  to  doubt  His  love,  never  to  think 
He  gives  the  former  grudgingly,  or  the  other  severely. 

"  I  had  a  superb  sleep  last  night ;  but,  Avhat  was  very 
odd,  I  started  up  and  lit  my  candle  the  very  minute  ("twenty 
minutes  to  five)  at  which  John's  bell  had  rung  on  Tuesday 
morning." 

To  the  Same  : — 

Passing  the  Stehen  Gebirge. 

"  I  have  really  had  a  happy  day  toddling  down  this 
glorious  stream.  The  sun  was  bright,  and  things  looked 
tolerable.  I  cannot  say  that  any  poetic  feeling  was  stirred 
up.  The  castles  in  sj^ite  of  me  suggested  vulgar  impres- 
sions of  immense  barons,  all  boots  and  beards,  rioting  and 
drinking,  and  thinking  only  hoAV  Baron  A.  could  be 
swindled  or  Baron  D.  murdered  ;  what  tocher  La 
Baronne  E.  had,  and  whether  she  could  be  purchased  for 


LAST  FEARS  AT  DALKEITH.  rig 

the  hopeful,  tnvnip-faced,  bhisteriiig  young-  Baron  Swilling- 
beer.  Then  those  vineyards  are  indissolubly  interwoven 
in  the  fancy  with  tables-d'hote.  The  imagination  pictures 
myriads  of  drinkers  in  all  lands  longing  to  suck  their 
juices.  The  whole  land  seems  to  be  robbed  from  [)()etry 
and  the  Middle  Ages,  and  consigned  for  ever  to  l;arrels 
and  wine-bibbers.  There  was  not  an  Englislmian  on  board, 
and  that  relieved  the  prose  a  little. 

"  I  met  two  mrls  who  were  emio-ratiu'jf  to  America. 
How  happy  they  were,  poor  things,  when  I  told  them  that 
T  had  been  in  the  town  to  which  they  \vere  going,  and 
that  it  Avas  so  handsome,  and  th.at  they  would  go  across 
the  ocean  as  easy  as  to  Stuttgart,  for  thence  they  came, 
and  my  heart  was  stirred  for  them  ;  and  then  (good 
creatures)  they  asked  me  if  I  had  met  their  ScJiwager.  I 
told  i\\Q,xn,  possibly.  They  at  once  treated  me  as  a  brother, 
and  showed  me  their  letters.  I  really  made  them  very 
happy  by  my  pictures  of  the  calm  ocean  and  glorious 
America. 

"  I  had  a  long  talk  with  an  old  sailor  on  board,  quite 
a  character.  I  opened  his  heart  with  cigars,  and  he  was 
very  communicative.  He  spoke  in  broken  sentences, 
each  delivered  in  an  under  voice  very  confidentially  to  me, 
Avhile  he  always  turned  up  his  eyes  to  heaven,  kept  his 
elbows  by  his  side,  and  wriggled  his  wrists  as  if  a  thousand 
mysteries  lay  far  beyond  his  brief  communications.  '  An 
old  cloister  that — hate  the  priests — ceremonies  {miany 
wriggles) — the  best  cloister  is  the  heart  {great  confidence). 
Stop  her!  (to  the  engineer).  Democrats!  {fearful  wriggles) 
— the  Jesuits  did  the  whole.  In  old  times  they  forgave 
the  sins  of  thieves  and  murderers,'  and  he  ran  off,  looking 
over  his  shoulders,  winking  hard,  and  his  two  hands  in 
perpetual  motion.  Soon  I  felt  a  tap  on  my  back — '  The 
Protestant  ministers  not  much  better — too  learned — don't 
care  for  the  people — they  give  words — words — but  what 
do  they  ?'  {wrists,  eyes,  all  going,  and  immense  confidence.) 
*  The  people  are  best.  Ach,  Herr,  we  must  make  the  heart 
our  church — minister — all — and  love  God  and  man.'  He 
darted  off  to  take  soundings.  I  left  him,  but  we  are  yet 
to  smoke  together.      Oh,   this  great  heart  of  humanity  I 


320  LIfE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

How  fjrand  it  ever  is  when  it  is  real  !  What  a  u.aGrnificent 
study  is  man,  and  how  elevating  at  all  times  to  realise 
one's  brotherhood,  to  rise  like  a  hill  above  the  earth's  sur- 
face, and  to  converse  with  other  hills,  and  to  feel  that  both 
are  rooted  in  the  common  earth,  and  are  beneath  the  same 
sun,  and  are  refreshed  with  the  same  dew  ! 

"  While  I  thus  write,  partly  to  relieve  my  own  heart 
and  partly  to  take  your  thoughts  for  five  minutes  from 
your  present  sorrows,  I  am  dragged  back  to  the  dear  group 
at  Cannstadt. 

"  Perhaps  this  may  find  you  in  the  midst  of  more  than 
ordinary  sorrow,  when  amusing  words  will  sicken  you.  But 
it  may  be  quite  otherwise.  Oh !  trust,  trust.  Dearer, 
infinitely  dearer  is  he  to  his  own  Lord  and  brother  than 
he  can  be  to  us." 


Surely  'tis  all  a  dream  !     Is  this  the  Rhine  ? 
Is  this  majestic  pile  of  ruin  old  St.  Goar  ? 
That  far-off  rush  of  water  Lurlei's  roar  ? 
Oh,  what  a  joyous  life  of  lives  was  mine. 
When  those  dear  castled  hills  of  clustering  vine 
First  flashed  upon  me  in  the  days  of  yore  ! 
Such  glorious  visions  I  can  see  no  more  I 
For  though  Avithin  a  holier  light  doth  shine, 
Yet  this  deep  sorrow  veils  it  as  a  cloud. 
Casting  from  shore  to  shore  a  sombre  shroud, 
That  scarce  a  trace  of  the  old  life  is  found. 
Into  one  wish  my  thoughts  and  feelings  blend. 
To  be  with  those  dear  mourners  who  surround 
The  dying-bed  of  my  best  earthly  friend. 


¥rom  his  Journax  : — 

Dalkeith,  Ajrril  11. 

"  My  memory  can  never  require  to  be  refreshed  by  a 
record  of  those  memorable  days  of  intense  life,  when  days 
were  years,  and  hours  months.  For  ever  shall  I  vividly 
remember  the  rushing  journt:y,  the  burning  fever  of  mor- 
bid anxiety  as  I  hurried  on  and  on  from  this  to  the  Rhine 


LAST  YEARS  IN  DALKEITH.  321 

— along  that  river  darkened  by  mist — from  the  llhiae  to 
Stuttgart,  and  then  by  moonlight,  which  seemed  to  light  me 
to  my  grave,  to  Tiibingen,  ULtil  after  midnight  I  stood  out- 
side his  door  and  had  some  rest,  when  I  felt  he  was  there. 
Shall  I  ever  forget  the  meeting  ?  the  horror  of  darkness 
followed  by  prayer,  by  hopes,  by  heavenly  gleams  from 
unexpected  sources,  by  fears  and  sore  stragglings.  And 
then  his  room,  and  our  daily  on-goings,  the  screen,  the 
big  chair,  the  table  with  its  books,  watch,  thermometer, 
the  stove,  himself  seated  on  the  bed,  the  brown  plaid,  the 
shut  eyes,  the  head  inclined  to  one  side,  the  peaceful 
smile,  the  resigned  and  meek  look,  the  '  dearie '  kiss,  the 
whispered  holy  things,  the  drawing-room  too,  and  the  piano, 
the  life  in  death,  the  sunshine  '  that  never  was  on  sea  or 
land.'  Then  came  Tuesday  the  11th,  and  at  early  dawn 
the  last  farewell,  while  at  evening  thou  wast  with  thy 
Father  ! " 

To :— 

Dalkeith,  Sunday. 

"  All  hail  !  The  Lord  is  risen.  The  world  is  redeemed, 
and  that  coffin  shall  be  broken,  and  that  darling  body  l^e 
glorified,  and  we  shall  be  with  him  and  all  in  Christ  for 
ever.  And,  oh,  the  calm  joy  of  assurance,  deep  as  in  the 
existence  of  God,  that  on  this  lovely  spring  Sabbath,  when 
flowers  are  bursting  forth,  and  birds  are  singing,  and  the 
sun  is  shining,  in  this  world  of  sin  and  death,  he,  our 
beloved  darling,  is  really  in  life  and  strength  and  intel- 
ligence and  unutterable  joy,  remembering  us  all,  and 
waiting  for  us !  Will  he  not  feel  so  at  home  ?  Is  he  not 
breathing  his  own  delicious  air  ?  I  see  him  now  with  a 
sunny  look  of  joy,  gazing  on  his  Lord,  praising  Him, 
meeting  every  moment  some  new  acquaintance — new,  yet 
old.    Oh  !  this  is  not  death  ;  it  is  life  !  '  life  abundantly.'  " 

To  the  Same  : — 

"  Tuesday,  17th  March. — What  can  man  say  or  do  ? 
Leaving  Cannstadt,  leaving  it  in  such  silent  company  !  ]\[y 
spirit  is  with  you  all  day,  often,  often  in  the  watches  of  tho 
night.      At  four  this  morning  I  was  praying  for  you." 

VOL,    I.  Y 


322  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  the  Same  : — 

"  Wednesday  Afternoon. — I  have  boen  thinking  much 
of  that  kiggage  and  those  things  of  his.  It  is  strange, 
inexpressibly  strange  to  see  dead  things  only,  and  not  to 
fiee  tlic  living  one.  Yet  was  it  not  so  when  Christ  rose  ? 
The  linen  clothes  and  the  napkin,  left  in  order  behind, 
and  He  gone  !  But  our  dear  one  lives !  and  I  can  so  well 
fancy  him  smiling  at  those  poor  remembrances  of  sin  and 
sorrow,  which  are  nevertheless  to  us  signs  of  faith 
triumphant  in  death.  I  am  sure  when  our  day  of  death 
comes,  if  we  have  time  to  think,  the  room  at  Camistadt 
Avill  be  strength  to  us." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  Ajml  llth. — We  buried  him  on  Wednesday  last,  the 
9th.  The  day  was  calm  and  beautiful.  The  sky  was  blue, 
with  a  few  fleecy  clouds.  The  birds  were  singing  :  every- 
thing seemed  so  holy  and  peaceful.  His  cotiin  was  accom- 
panied by  those  who  loved  him.  As  I  paced  beside  him 
to  his  last  resting-place,  I  felt  a  holy  joy  as  if  marching 
beside  a  noble  warrior  receiving  his  final  honours.  Oh, 
how  harmonious  seemed  his  life  and  death  !  I  felt  as  if 
he  was  still  alive,  as  if  he  still  whispered  in  my  ear,  and 
all  he  said — for  he  seemed  only  to  repeat  his  fiivourite 
sa3dngs — was  in  beautiful  keeping  with  this  last  stage  of 
his  journey  : — '  It  is  His  own  sweet  will  ;'  '  Dearie,  we 
must  be  as  little  children  ;'  '  We  must  follow  Christ,'  and 
so  he  seemed  to  resign  himself  meekly  to  be  borne  to  his 
grave,  to  smile  upon  us  all  in  love  as  he  was  lowered 
down,  and  as  the  earth  covered  him  from  our  sight, 
it  Avas  as  if  he  said,  '  Father  !  Thou  hast  appointed  all 
men  once  to  die.  Thy  sweet  will  be  done  !  I  yield  to 
Thine  appointment !  My  Saviour  has  gone  before  me  ; 
as  a  little  child  I  follow !  '  And  there  we  laid  him 
and  rolled  the  sod  over  him.  Yet  the  birds  continued 
to  sing,  and  the  sun  to  shine,  and  the  hills  to  look 
down  on  us.  ])Ut  long  after  earth's  melodies  have 
ceased,    and    the    mountains  departed,    and    the  sun    va- 


LAST  YEARS  IN  DALKEITH.  323 

nislied,  that   body  shall  live  in  glory,  and  that  beautiful 

spirit  be — 

"  '  A  Memnon  singing  in  the  great  God  light.' 

"  '  O,  sir,  the  good  die  first; 
And  those  whose  hearts  are  dry  as  summer's  dust 
Barn  to  the  socket !  ' 

'0  God  of  infinite  grace,  help  me — help  us,  weak, 
trembling,  infirm,  ignorant,  to  cleave  fast  to  Thee  in  all 
Thy  ways — to  be  led  by  Thy  Spirit  in  whatever  way  He 
teaches  us,  and  to  glorify  Thee  in  body  and  soul,  by  life  or 
by  death.    Amen." 

"■July. — This  is  my  last  Sabbath  in  Dalkeith,  and  this 
Sabbath  ends  another  great  era  in  my  life. 

"  The  last  six  months  have  been  to  me  concentrated 
life.  I  have  lived  intensely.  I  have  lived  ages — all  end- 
ino-  with  my  bidding  farewell  this  day  to  a  devoted  and 
loving  people  !  When  I  glance  over  the  last  twenty  years  I 
think  I  have  some  idea  of  life  in  its  most  striking,  wild, 
and  out-of-the-way  phases.  I  fancy  I  have  seen  it  in 
its  strangest  hues,  and  into  its  depths  more  than  most 
people  ;  often  too  much  so  for  my  own  hapi^iness," 

Letters  to  : — 

"  It  is  often  as  difficult  for  me  to  think  of  making  hap- 
piness without  '  conditions'  as  it  is  for  you,  perhaps  much 
more  so  ;  but  we  know  that  if  Ave  really  yield  ourselves  to 
God's  teachinsT  within  and  without — in  our  hearts  and  in 
our  circumstances — and  know  that  it  is  His  will,  and  not 
ours  merely,  i.e.  that  it  must  be,  or  ought  to  be  (for  wdth 
Christians  must  and  ought  are  one),  then  we  shall  have 
peace,  for  we  shall  have  fellow^ship  with  the  will  of  God. 
You  cannot  feel  yourself  more  an  infant  than  I  do. 

"...  What  is  devotedness  ?  It  is  not  a  giving  up,  but 
a  full  and  complete  receiving  in  the  best  possible  way  (-i.e. 
in  God's  way)  of  the  riches  of  His  bounty.  It  is  being 
first  in  sympathy  with  God,  judging  and  choosing,  rejoicing 
with  Him  ;  and  then  consequently  resting  satisfied  with 
all  He  wills  us  to  be,  to  do,  to  receive,  give  up,  suffer  or 
enjoy." 

Y  2 


32 1  LIFE  OF  JS/ORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  tho  Same  : — 

Sunday  "Siijlit. 

"  Diidos  arc  the  efl^icatio.".  for  eternity,  which  is  endless 
auty. 

"  Onr  pleasures  are  in  exact  proportion  to  our  duties. 

"  All  religion  is  summed  up  in  one  little  word,  Love. 
God  asks  this  ;  we  cannot  give  more,  He  cannot  take  less. 

"  I  haA-e  been  reading  Luther's  '  Haus-Postille,'  and  have 
been  much  amused  by  his  hits  against  false  monkish 
humility. 

"It  is  not  humility  to  ignore  whatever  good  God  gives 
us  or  makes  of  us  ;  but  to  receive  all  from  Him,  thank 
Him  for  all,  and  use  all  according  to  His  permission  or 
command. 

"  So  let  that  keep  us  up,  and  guide  us." 

Tv  tLe  S.VME  : — 

May  29. 

"  .  .  .  .  Oh  for  the  clear  eye  to  discern  those  eras  in 
life,  those  turning  points,  and  to  hear  the  voice  of  love 
and  wisdom  and  holiness  (by  hints  unmistakable  by  the 
pure  mind),  saying,  '  this  is  the  Avay,  walk  in  it ! '  Oh 
for  the  humble  heart  to  fall  into  God's  plan,  whatever 
it  be,  be  it  life  or  death ! 

"  ....  It  will  soon  be  all  over  Avith  me — at  most 
twenty  or  thirty  years.  Let  me  bravely  do  my  duty,  and 
then,  Hurrah  ! 

"  After  leaving  you  I  went  to  the  Assembly,  and  then 
went  in  search  of  my  poor  invalid.  Got  the  house  with 
some  trouble  ;  and  then  where  next  ?  To  his  grave.  And 
there,  with  many  tears  and  many  prayers,  I  did  get  much 
peace.  The  sunlight  from  that  holy  sj)ot  comes  over  me. 
I  heard  him  speak  to  me — '  Be  as  a  little  child  !  Follow 
— do  not  lead.  Live  in  the  Spirit ! '  '  Yes,'  I  said,  *  yes, 
darling,  thou  wouldst  say  the  same  things  now,  and  maybe 
thou  art  near  me.'  And  I  blessed  God  for  his  words — 
earnestly  prayed  that  they  might  be  realised  ;  and  they 
shall  be.  We  shall  follow  his  faith.  If  we  liked  to  please 
him  on  earth — much  more  now.      But  we  have  a  better 


LAST  YEARS  IN  DALKEITH.  325 

Brother — our  own  Lord — with  us.     To  please  Him  iu  all 
things  is  heaven  ;  to  displease  Him,  Hell  1 " 


To  the  Same,  after  preaching  his  *  trial '  sermon 
in  the  Barony  : — 

Glasgow,  May  18,  1851.     Sundny  Evening. 

**  Another  milestone  in  this  awful  journey  is  over — • 
another  bend  in  the  great  stream  has  swept  me  nearer  the 
unfathomable  gulf. 

"I  had  such  a  crowd — passages,  stairs,  ujd  to  the  roof! 
That  is  but  a  means,  not  an  end.  Yes  !  I  had  one  of 
those  high  days  which  sometimes  are  granted  to  me ; 
when  I  feel  the  grandeur  of  my  calling  and  forget  man, 
except  as  an  immortal  and  accountable  being ;  when  the 
heart  is  subdued,  awed,  blessed  !  I  believe  souls  were 
stirred  up  to  seek  God.  I  was  dreadfully  wearied — done 
up — but  I  cared  not.  I  felt,  '  the  night  cometh — work  !' 
Is  it  not  strange — and  yet  it  is  not — that,  as  usual,  the 
moment  I  entered  the  pulpit  and  saw  that  breathless 
crowd,  Cannstadt  arose  before  me,  and  remained  there  all 
the  day  !  He  was  a  vision  haunting  me,  yet  sobering  me, 
elevating  me  ;  pointing  always  upward  ;  so  purifying,  so 
solemnising  and  sanctifying  i-  and  I  felt  dear  friends  Avith 
me,  bidding  me  be  good  and  holy  ;  and  when  the  great 
song  of  praise  arose,  my  heart  rose  with  it,  and  I  felt  all 
that  is  good  will  live,  and  we  shall  have  a  great,  an 
endless,  and  blessed  day  in  Heaven.  On  earth  I  know 
not  what  may  be.      God's  will  be  done  ! 

•5C-  *  -Jir  -5.'  * 

"  As  to  distraction  in  prayer,  how  I  know  this,  and 
have  to  struggle  against  it !  but  it  is  not  good,  and  dare  not 
be  allowed,  but  must  be  conquered. 

"  To  do  this,  (1)  Have  a  fixed  time  for  praver  ;  (2)  Pray 
earnestly  at  commencement  against  it ;  (3)  Divide  the 
prayer,  so  as  to  have  confession  for  a  few  minutes,  then 
thanksgiving,  &c.  This  givos  relief  to  the  strain  on  the 
mind.  I  speak  as  a  man  Avho  looks  back  with  horror  at 
my  carelessness  in  secret  prayer.  Ijucksliding  begins  in 
the  closet,  and  ends — where  ?  " 


326  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  the  Same  : — 

Dalkeith,  Sattirday  Morning. 

"  I  think  that  Baxter's  seventh  chapter  in  the  '  Saints' 
Rest '  is  something  far,  far  beyond  even  himself.  One 
should  get  it  by  heart ;  it  is  such  a  chapter  as  that — so 
earnest,  so  searching,  so  awfully  solemn  and  true — Mhich 
humbles,  and  stirs  up,  and  makes  one  feel  intensely  '  I 
have  not  yet  attained,'  and  resolve  more  firmly  to  do  this 
'  one  thing,' — press  on,  and  on  !  Why,  wliat  do  we 
expect  ?  To  be  glorified  with  Christ !  equal  with  St.  John 
and  St.  Paul — this  or  devils  !  To  press  on  is  to  realise 
more  blessedness  and  glory,  more  joy  and  perfect  peace  ! 
Oh,  how  weak  I  am — a  very,  very  babe !  But  it  required 
Omnipotence  to  make  me  a  babe." 

To  the  Same  : — 

Dalkeith,  Sunday  Evening. 

"  What  a  day  of  hail  and  snow  !  I  was  so  struck  at 
one  time  to-day.  The  heavens  were  dark  ;  the  hail  came 
booming  down,  and  rushed  along  the  ground  like  foam 
snatched  by  the  storm-blast  from  a  Avintry  ocean  ;  but  the 
moment  it  ceased,  there  was  such  a  sweet  blink  of  sun- 
shine, and  instantly  the  woods  were  full  of  melod}'  from  a 
whole  choir  of  blackbirds  !  We,  too,  should  sing  when 
the  storm  is  over  ! — but  why  do  we  not  beat  the  birds, 
and  sing  while  it  lasts  ?  '  Are  we  not  better  than  the 
fovvls  ? — yet  God  careth  for  them  ! ' 

"  I  have  preached  in  England  and  Ireland,  America  and 
the  Continent,  in  all  sorts  of  places  on  sea  and  land,  in 
huts  and  palaces,  to  ])aupers  and  to  nobles — I  sometimes 
feel  a  curiosity  to  know  the  results  !  and  I  shall  know 
them !  It  is  a  noble,  a  glorious  Avork !  I  praise  God 
for  giving  me  such  a  '  talent,'  and  only  pray  that  'while  I 
preach  to  others  I  may  not  be  a  castaway  !  But,  no  !  I 
know  I  shall  not — praise  to  his  omnipotent  Grace ! 

"  I  h  ave  for  years  been  a  very  busy  man,  but  I  never 
for  an  hour  sought  for  work — it  was  always  given  to  me. 
I  know  your  active  spirit  is  one  of  the  features  of  your 
character,  bv.t  be  patient,  and  only  by  God's  grace  keep 
your  mind  in  that  most  necessary  state^ — which  Avill 
discern  the  Lord's  voice  when  He  calls.    I  have  great  faith 


LAST  YEARS  IN  DALKEITH.  327 

in  what  I  rail  signs — indescribable  hints,  palpable  hints, 
that  '  this  is  the  way,  walk  ye  in  it.'  One  cannot,  before 
they  come,  tell  what  they  shall  be  ;  but  when  the  '  fulness 
of  the  time '  comes  when  the  Lord  has  appointed  us  to  do 
anything,  something  or  other  occurs  that  comes  home 
instantaneously  to  us  with  the  conviction,  '  the  Lord's  time 
has  come  !     I  have  to  do  this  ! '  " 


To  the  Same  : — 

K-i-  p. jr.  Sunday. 

"  Shall  I  tell  you  all  I  have  been  doing  to-day  ? 

"  I  went  to  bed  at  one  (a.m.),  for  my  time  had  been 
broken  up  all  day,  and  in  the  evening  I  did  the  honours 

to .      By  the  way,  in  all  our  judgments  and  criticisms 

of  people,  we  should  ever  see  them  in  their  true  relation- 
ships to  us.  The  world  has  one  set  of  rules,  the  Church 
another.  Distinguish  between  gifts  and  endowments,  and 
the  use  which  is  made  of  them.  See  things  in  their 
spiritual  rather  than  their  earthly  relationships.  I  do  not 
say  that  one  can  entirely  forget  the  latter,  or  that  when 
combined  with  the  former  (I  mean  the  gift  with  the  grace) 
they  do  not  make  God's  creature  much  more  beautiful ;  but 
accustoming  ourselves  to  these  thoughts,  our  judgments  and 
mode  of  thinking  and  speaking  about  people  will  every 
day  be  modified  and  brought  by  degrees  into  greater 
harmony  with  God's  judgments.  I  have  had  sore  struggles 
with  this  ;  but  intercourse  with  the  good,  especially  among 
the  working  classes,  has  gradually  moulded  my  feelings 
into  a  quieter  state.  And  how  has  all  this  been  so 
rapidly  suggested  ?     I  cannot  help  smiling,  yea  laughmg,  at 

poor having  been  the  cause !     But  I  often  feel  sore  if  I 

have  seemed  to  speak  unfeelingly  or  unkindly,  or  in  a  worldly 
way  of  any  one  or  for  any  cause,  who  I  feel  is  a  believer. 

"  I  am  only  at  one  in  the  morning  yet !  I  rose  at  half- 
past  seven,  read,  &c.,  till  half-past  eight.  Went  to  my 
Sabbath  school  at  nine.  Preached  twice.  Went  in  the 
evening  with  Jane  to  read  part  of  my  sermon  to  dear 
Elizabeth  Patterson,  and  had  worship  there,  after  paying 
a  visit  to  an  old  woman,  who  I  believe  was  really  brought, 
as  she  says  herself,  to  the  knowledge  of  Christ  by  me 


32  8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

■when   she   was   sixty-three,  and  whom  I  admitted  for  the 
first  time  as  a  communicant  1 " 

To  the  Same  : — 

Tuesday  Evening,  June  26. 

"By  fellowship  is  meant  one-mindedness, sympathy, agree- 
ment. It  is  not  the  submission  of  a  servant  to  a  command 
because  it  is  a  command.  It  is  more,  much  more  than 
this.  It  is  the  sympatliy  of  the  friend  with  the  friend, 
seeing  and  appreciating  his  character  and  jilans,  and  enter- 
ing into  them  with  real  heart  satisfaction.  It  is  the 
'  amen,'  the  '  so  let  it  be,'  of  the  spirit.  '  I  have  not  called 
you  servants,  but  friends.'  To  have  this  fellowship  two 
things  are  needed  :  first,  knowing  our  master's  will,  and 
secondly,  having  that  mind  and  spirit  in  us  which  neces- 
sarily sympathises  Avith  it. 

"  It  is  delightful  to  stand  in  spirit  beside  Christ,  and 
look  outwards  from  that  central  point,  and  see  things  as 
He  sees  them.  This  is  having^  His  '  licrht '  and  '  life,'  and 
therefore  so  living  and  seeing  as  He  does  ;  and  while  we 
do  so,  He  has  fellowship  with  us  !  There  is  something 
very  grand  I  think  in  this  high  calling,  to  be  made  par- 
takers of  Christ's  mind  and  joy !  It  is  such  godlike 
treatment  of  creatures  !  It  shows  the  immense  benevo- 
lence of  Christ,  to  create  us  so  as  to  lift  us  up  to  this 
sublime  position,  to  make  us  joint  heirs  with  Himself  in 
all  this  intellectual  and  moral  greatness  and  blessedness." 

To  the  Same  : — 

"  Have  just  come  in  to  breathe  a  little  after  visiting 
sick.  How  beautifully  Christ's  example  meets  as  and 
suits  us  in  everything.  In  visiting  the  siek  poor  one 
endures  innumerable  petty  sufferings  from  the  close  den, 
bad  air,  and  fifty  things  which  are  sometimes  almost  in- 
sufferable to  our  senses  and  tastes.  But  when  one  is 
disposed  to  fly,  or  get  disgusted,  the  thought  comes  of  His 
washing  His  disciples'  feet,  and  living  among  wretched 
men.  '  He  who  was  rich ' — from  whom  all  taste  and  the 
perception  of  tlie  beautiful  has  come  !  He  who  was  heir  of 
all  things.  Yet,  with  His  human  nature,  what  must  He  have 
'put  up  with'  in  love! 


LAST  FEARS  IN  DALKEITH.  329 

"  It  is  difficult  to  separate  the  real  from  the  accidental. 
But  when  I  see  a  poor  ugly  unlearned  Christian,  I  some- 
times think  that  if  the  heart  and  spirit  remained  as 
they  were — yet  if  that  face  by  some  magic  power  was 
made  beautiful,  that  tongue  made  to  speak  nicely,  that  form 
made  elegant,  the  manners  refined,  the  cottage  changed  to 
a  palace,  in  short,  if  the  real  person  M^as  put  in  a  better 
case,  how  altered  would  all  seem.  So  in  the  reverse,  if 
George  lY.  had  a  squint  eye,  hump  baclv,  ragged  clothes, 
vulgar  pronunciation,  manner,  &c.,  what  a  revolution ! 
Yet  will  there  not  be  a  revolution  in  the  good  and  the  bad 
like  this  ?  Thus  you  see  I  try  and  idealise  poor  Lizzie  S,, 
and  some  of  my  poor  Christian  bodies,  and  if  possible  see 
kings  and  queens  shining  through  their  poor  raiment. 

"  You  never  beheld  a  more  peaceful,  lovely  evening.  Oh ! 
it  is  heavenly.  The  large  pear-tree  is  bursting  into  blos- 
som, the  willows  are  richly  yellow  in  the  woods,  and  the 
birds  are  busy  with  their  nests, 

"  '  Singing  of  summer  with  full-throated  ease.' 

Everything  is  so  calm,  so  peaceful  ;  why  is  not  man's 
throbbing  heart  equally  calm  ?  Why  do  we  not  always 
sing  Avith  the  birds,  and  shine  with  the  sun,  and  laugh 
with  the  streams,  and  play  with  the  breeze  ?  It  is,  I  sup- 
pose, because  much  sorrow  must  belong  to  man  ere  he  can 
receive  much  joy.  Yet  when  the  true  life  is  in  us,  there  is 
always  a  sweet  undersong  of  joy  in  the  heart ;  but  it  is 
sometimes  unheard  amidst  the  strong  hurricane. 

"  The  calls  I  am  from  time  to  time  receiving  from  those 
to  whom  I  have  done  good  are  most  delightful.  I  begin 
to  think  that  the  seed  has  taken  better  root  than  I  had 
thought.     Praise  God  for  it !  " 

To  the  Same  : — 

Friday  Night,  12^. 

"  Free  salvation.  Justification  by  faith  alone.  John  did 
not  see  this  for  a  time.  When  he  saw  it  the  burthen  was 
removed  for  ever  !  Unbelief  is  dishonouring  to  God. 
You  glorify  Him  by  reposmg  on  Him,  and  heartily 
trusting   Him  :   trusting    His  teaching   in  the  Word,  con- 


330  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

science  and  provi'louce.  Rcmeml)er  you  have  a  living 
Saviour,  and  a  loviiig  one,  always  the  same. 

"  Confess  Christ,  and  commend  the  gospel  by  calm  peace 
as  well  as  by  words.  K'xm.  at  i»assing  Christian  judgments 
upon  thuigs,  and  beware  of  worldly  judgments.  Aim  at 
seeing  persons  in  their  relation  to  Christ,  and  to  nothing 
lower. 

"  I  have  had  two  days'  visitation  since  you  went  awav. 
You  have  no  idea  of  the  overwhelming  interest  of  such 
days  among  our  brothers  and  sisters.  What  a  volume  of  in- 
tense romance  each  day  contains !  How  good,  how  contenter' 
it  makes  you  ;  how  it  corrects  selfishness  ;  how  deeply  i\ 
makes  you  feel  your  responsibility  ;  whot  treasure  you  lay 
up  !  Let  me  see  ;  can  I  convey  to  you,  in  a  few  lines, 
specimens  of  my  cases  ? 

"  1.  A  husband  sick,  has  hardly  spoken  for  months  to 
his  wife  and  family — selfish,  jealous;  I  got  them  reconciled; 
promises  to  have  family  worship. 

"  2.  A  woman  in  low  spirits,  all  alone,  cried  bitterly  ; 
told  me  in  agony  she  frequently  planned  suicide.  Made 
her  promise  to  go  through  a  course  of  medicine,  and 
always  to  come  to  me  when  ill. 

"3.  A  bedridden  pauper — horrid  house. 

"  4.  An  infidel  tailor — very  intelligent.  Had  i-ond  Alton 
Locke,  &c.  An  hour  with  him.  I  shook  him  heartily  by 
the  hand — is  to  come  to  church. 

"  5.  An  idiot  pauper — a  half-idiot  sister — a  daughter- 
in-law  of  latter,  who  is  very  wicked,  says  '  she  will  take 
her  chance '  for  eternity,  was  impressed  by  all  I  said 
yesterday,  but  came  here  to-day  tipsy,  but  Imowing,  how- 
ever, what  she  was  saying. 

"  6.  A  mother  very  anxious — had  a  long  talk  with  her, 
she  received  good  and  cornfort.  And  so  on,  and  so  on. 
Oh,  for  unselfish,  Christian  hearts  to  live  and  die  for  the 
■world !  How  far,  far  are  we  from  Him  who  left  the 
heavens  and  became  poor  and  lived  amonv;  such — to  lift 
us  up  !  Alas,  alas  !  how  unlike  the  world  is  to  Him  ! 
It  has  no  tears — no  labours,  no  care  for  lost  man.  ^^'e 
are  selfish  and  shut-up.  Christians  hardly  know  their 
Master's  work  in  the  world  ! " 


AITENDTX 


Til  a  series  of  autobiographical  reminiscences  which  he 
dictated  in  old  age  to  one  of  his  daughters,  Dr.  Macleod's 
father  gives,  among  others,  the  following  amusing  and 
characteristic  pictures  of  his  youth  : — 

"  I  received  the  rudiments  of  my  education  in  the  manse  of 
Fiunary  from  tutors  who  were  hired  by  my  father  from  time  to 
time ;  but  we  were  often  for  months  without  any  instruction, 
except  the  little  we  could  receive  from  himself  when  his  time, 
which  was  very  much  occupied  with  parish  matters,  could  permit. 
He  generally  spent  three  or  four  days  of  the  week  on  horseback, 
and  always  came  home  much  fatigued  ;  but  he  usually  contrived  to 
give  my  elder  brother  and  me  a  lesson.  He  seldom  shaved  above 
twice  in  the  week,  except  something  extraordinary  came  in  the 
way,  and  it  was  during  the  process  of  shaving,  which  generally 
exceeded  an  hour,  that  we  were  drilled  in  our  Latin  lessons.  He 
was  an  admirable  Latin  scholar,  and  had  a  great  portion  of  the 
Latin  classics — Horace,  Virgil,  and  Ovid — committed  to  memory. 
He  was  very  partial  to  Buchanan's  Latin  Psalms,  a  portion  of  which 
we  generally  read  on  Sabbath  morning.  My  father  was  unfortu- 
nate in  most  of  his  tutors  ;  one  of  them,  a  monster  in  temper,  came 
to  us  from  Aberdeen.  I  shudder  at  the  recollection  of  his  cruelty 
My  brother  Donald,  one  of  the  most  amiable  and  interesting  fellowa 
that  ever  lived,  was  an  excellent  scholar  and  superior  to  his  tutor, 
who,  I  suppose  on  that  account,  formed  a  fearful  prejudice  against 
him,  and  chastised  him  unmercifully,  and  often  without  cause,  and 
that  in  remote  places  where  there  was  no  one  to  witness  his 
conduct.  His  savage  treatment  of  this  dear  lad  brought  on  a 
spitting  of  blood,  from  which  he  never  recovered.  I  was  not  a 
good  scholar,  and  was  much  more  given  to  play  than  to  study,  yet 


332  APPENDIX. 

i  received  my  full  share  of  flocfging !  This  cruel  man  had  a  won- 
deiful  power  over  us,  and  took  solemn  promises  from  us  that  we 
should  not  tell  our  parents  of  his  conduct.  A  singular  circum- 
stance, which  deeply  impressed  me  at  the  time  and  which  I  cannot 
forget,  brought  his  conduct  to  light,  and  caused  his  dismissal  from 
my  fatlier's  family.  He  asked  us  to  accompany  him  upon  a  Satur- 
day to  the  house  of  Killundine,  where  one  of  his  pupils  then  lived, 
and  who  is  almost  the  only  one  of  my  early  companions  still  alive. 
We  went  to  Killundine,  by  the  shore,  on  the  line  where  the  new 
public  road  now  runs.  I  was  dressed  in  a  kilt,  but  had  no  hose  or 
stockings  on.  We  came  to  the  cave  below  Laggan,  known  by  the 
name  of  '  The  Dripping  Cave,'  which  could  not  be  entered  but 
through  a  wild  jungle  of  briars,  thorns,  and  nettles.  It  was  said 
that  this  cave  was  the  abode  of  some  wild  man  of  the  wood,  and 
that  he  had  lately  been  seen  at  the  entrance  of  it.  I  admitted  to 
my  tutor  that  I  believed  this  story ;  on  which  he  ordered  me  to 
pass  through  this  thicket  and  enter  the  cave,  in  order,  as  he  said, 
to  disabuse  my  mind  of  such  a  belief  in  the  superstitions  of  the 
country.  I  remonstrated  as  to  my  inability  to  do  so  in  the  dress 
which  I  then  wore  ;  but  he  cut  a  rod  in  the  wood,  with  which  he 
compelled  me  to  proceed.  I  did  so,  while  all  my  feet  and  legs 
were  torn  and  bleeding  from  the  effects  of  the  thorns.  On  reaching 
the  entrance  of  the  cave,  what  was  my  horror  on  observing  the 
figure  of  a  tall,  old,  grey-headed  man  rising  from  his  bed  of  straw 
with  a  scarlet  night-cap  on  !  But  he,  hearing  my  cries  and  sobs, 
addressed  me  in  the  kindest  manner — naming  me,  for  he  recognised 
me  at  once.  This  dispelled  my  fear,  and  I  resolved  to  abide  with 
him  in  the  cave  rather  than  return  to  my  companion.  I  told  him 
all  that  had  happened  to  me.  He  roared  after  the  tutor,  and 
vowed  vengeance  against  him.  He  informed  me  that  the  tutor  had 
taken  to  his  heels  in  the  direction  of  the  Manse.  The  good  old 
man  carried  me  in  his  arms  out  of  the  brushwood,  and  insisted  that 
I  should  go  on  to  Killundine,  accompanying  me  himself  a  great 
part  of  the  way.  This  venerable  man  had  been  unfortunate  in  his 
money  transactions  as  a  cattle  dealer,  and  was  concealing  himself 
for  some  time,  till  an  arrangement  should  be  made  with  his 
creditors.  I  reached  the  house  of  Killundine  in  a  sorrowful  plight, 
where  the  thorns  were  extracted  from  my  limbs,  and  where  I 
remained  for  the  night.  Thus  were  the  cruelties  of  our  tutor 
brought  to  light,  his  conduct  to  my  brother  became  known,  and  he 
was  dismissed.  The  only  apology  that  can  be  found  for  him  was, 
that  be  was  labouring  under  mental  disease  ;  be  died  soon  after  in 
the  lunatic  asylum.     My  father  continued  to  give  me  lessons  when 


APPENDIX.  Ill 

his  time  admitted  of  it  (especially  during  shaving  times).  He 
followed  a  practice,  which  I  at  the  time  abhorred,  of  making  me 
translate  the  classics  into  Gaelic.  He  himself  had  an  exquisite 
taste  in  the  selection  of  vocables,  and  I  thus  became  a  good  Gaehc 
scholar. 

"In  the  summer  of  1799  the  late  General  Norman  Macleod 
(grandfather  to  the  present  chief)  came  to  the  Manse  of  Morven, 
on  his  way  to  the  Isle  of  Skye.  My  father  had  been  for  some  time 
tutor  to  this  brave  and  talented  man,  who  was  a  distinguished 
soldier  in  the  American  War,  and  obtained  great  renown  afterwards 
in  India  during  the  conflicts  with  Tippoo  Sahib  and  other  chiefs. 
He  was  frequently  and  severely  wounded.  Macleod  insisted  that 
my  father  should  allow  me  go  along  with  him  to  Dunvegan  ;  and 
I  was  delighted  at  the  prospect  of  visiting  the  place  of  which  I  had 
heard  so  many  traditionary  legends.  There  were  no  steamers  at 
that  time,  and  we  took  our  passage  in  a  small  wherry  from  Oban. 

"  Macleod  was  accompanied  by  Mr.  Hector  M:icdonald  Buchanan, 
his  man  of  business,  and  Mr,  Campbell  of  Combie,  his  commissioner. 
We  arrived  at  Loch  Bracadale  next  day  after  leaving  Morven, 
where  we  found  horses  and  carts,  with  crowds  of  people  waiting 
our  arrival ;  we  reached  the  old  Castle  of  Dunvegan,  where  many 
of  the  gentlemen  tacksmen  of  the  Macleod  estates  were  waiting 
to  receive  us.  Macleod  was  welcomed  to  the  castle  of  his  fathers 
by  Captain  Donald  MacCrimmon,  the  representative  of  the 
celebrated  '  MacCrimmon  pipers,'  who  had  for  ages  been  con- 
nected with  the  family.  This  Captain  MacCrimmon  had  acquired 
his  commission,  and  no  small  share  of  renown,  with  his  chief, 
during  the  American  War. 

**I  can  never  forget  the  impression  which  the  whole  scene 
made  upon  my  youthful  raind  as  MacCrimmon  struck  up  '  Failte 
Euairi  Mhoir,'  the  fovourite  tune  of  the  clan.  Dinner  was  laid  in 
the  great  dining-room  ;  the  keys  of  the  cellar  were  procured,  and  a 
pipe  of  claret  was  broached,  and  also  a  cask  of  Madeira  wine  of 
choice  quality,  brought  f  nu  lup'is  1}  Macleod;  the  wine  was 
carried  up  in  flagons  to  tlio  dining-room,  and  certainly  they  were 
very  amply  used  in  the  course  of  the  evening.  A  bed  was  provided 
for  me  in  a  small  closet  off"  Macleod's  room,  and  I  can  never  forget 
the  affectionate  kindness  which  my  greatly  beloved  chief  showed 
me  while  for  three  months  I  remained  in  his  castle.  The  number 
of  visitors  who  came  there  was  great— Maclean  of  Coll,  Grant  of 
Corrymony,  Mr.  Grant,  the  father  of  Lord  Glenelg,  Principal 
Macleod,  of  Aberdeen,  Colonel  Donald  Macleod,  father  to  the 
present  St.  Kilda,  were,  with  many  others,  amonc  the  guests.     I 


3H  APPEXDIX. 

formed  a  special  refjard  for  Major  Madood  of  Bjillynieanach,  who 
had  been  a  distinf,nnshed  ollicor  in  the  Dutch  wars,  and  who  kindly 
entertained  me  with  many  interestirg  anecdotes  regarding  the  war- 
fare in  which  he  had  been  engaged. 

"  One  circumstance  took  place  at  the  castle  on  this  occasion 
which  I  think  worth  recording,  especially  as  I  am  the  only  person 
now  living  who  can  attest  the  truth  of  it.  There  had  been  a 
traditionary  prophecy,  couched  in  Gaelic  verse,  regarding  tha 
family  of  Macleod,  which,  on  this  occasion,  received  a  most  extra- 
ordinary fultilment.  This  prophecy  I  have  heard  repeated  by 
several  persons,  and  most  deeply  do  I  regret  that  I  did  not  take  a 
copy  of  it  when  I  could  have  got  it.  The  worthy  Mr.  Campbell  of 
Knock,  in  Mull,  had  a  very  beautiful  version  of  it,  as  also  had  my 
father,  and  so,  I  think,  had  likewise  Dr.  Campbell  of  Killninver. 
Such  prophecies  were  current  regarding  almost  all  old  families  in 
the  Highland^  ;  the  Argyll  family  were  of  the  number ;  and  there 
is  a  prophecy  regarding  the  Breadalbane  family  as  yet  unfulfilled, 
which  I  hope  may  remain  so.  The  present  Marquis  of  Breadalbane 
is  fully  aware  of  it,  as  are  many  of  the  connections  of  the  family. 
Of  the  Macleod  family  it  was  prophesied  at  least  a  hundred  years 
prior  to  the  circumstance  which  I  am  about  to  relate. 

"In  the  prophecy  to  which  I  allude  it  was  foretold,  that  when 
Norman,  the  third  Norman  ('  Tormaid  nan'  tri  Tormaid  '),  the  son 
of  the  hard-boned  English  lady  ('  Mac  na  mnatha  Caoile  cruaidh 
8hassanaich '),  would  perish  by  an  accidental  death;  tbat  when 
the  '  Maidens  '  of  Macleod  (certain  well-known  rocks  on  the  coast 
of  Macleod's  country)  liecame  the  property  of  a  Campbell  ;  when  a 
fox  had  young  ones  in  one  of  the  turrets  of  the  Castle,  and, 
particularly,  when  the  Fairy  enchanted  banner  should  be  for  the 
last  time  exhibited,  then  the  glory  of  the  Macleod  family  should 
depart— a  great  part  of  the  estate  should  be  sold  to  others,  so  that 
a  small  '  curragh,'  or  boat,  would  carry  all  gentlemen  of  the  name 
of  Macleod  across  Loch  Duuvegan  ;  but  that  in  times  far  distant 
another  John  P)reac  should  arise,  who  should  redeem  those  estates, 
and  raise  the  powers  and  honour  of  the  house  to  a  higher  pitch  than 
ever.  Such  in  general  terms  was  the  prophecy.  And  now  as  to 
the  curious  coincidence  of  its  fulfilment.  There  was,  at  that  time, 
at  Dunvegan,  an  English  smith,  with  whom  I  became  a  favourite, 
and  who  told  me,  in  solemn  secrecy,  that  the  iron  chest  which  con- 
tained the  '  fairy  flag  '  was  to  be  forced  open  next  morning ;  that 
he  had  arranged  with  Mr.  Hector  Macdonald  Buchanan  to  be  there 
with  his  tools  for  that  purpose. 

"  I  was  most  anxious  to  be  present,  and  I  asked  permission  to 


APPENDIX.  33  5 

tliat  effect  of  Mr.  Buchanan,  who  granted  me  leave  on  condition 
Uiut  I  should  not  inform  anyone  of  the  name  of  Macieod  that  such 
vv'as  intended,  and  should  keep  it  a  profound  secret  from  the  chief. 
This  I  promised,  and  most  faithfully  acted  on.  Next  morning  we 
proceeded  to  the  chamber  in  the  East  Turret,  where  was  the  iron 
chest  that  contained  the  famous  flag,  about  which  there  is  an 
interesting  tradition. 

"  With  great  violence  the  smith  tore  open  the  lid  of  this  iron 
';hest ;  but  in  doing  so  a  key  was  found,  under  part  of  the  cover- 
ing, which  would  have  opened  the  chest,  had  it  been  found  in  time. 
There  was  an  inner  case,  in  which  was  found  the  flag,  enclosed  in 
a  wooden  box  of  strongly  scented  wood.  The  flag  consisted  of  a 
square  piece  of  very  rich  silk,  with  crosses  wrought  with  gold 
thread,  and  several  elf-spots  stitched  with  great  care  on  diflerent 
parts  of  it. 

"  On  this  occasion,  the  melancholy  news  of  the  death  of  the 
young  and  promising  heir  of  Macieod,  reached  the  castle.  '  Norman, 
the  third  Norman,'  was  a  lieutenant  of  H.M.S.  the  Queen  Charlotte, 
which  was  blown  up  at  sea,  and  he  and  the  rest  perished.  At  the 
same  time  the  rocks  called  '  Macieod 's  Maidens  '  were  sold,  in  the 
course  of  that  very  week,  to  Angus  Campbell  of  Ensay,  and  they 
are  still  in  possession  of  his  grandson.  A  fox  in  possession  of  a 
Lieutenant  Maclean,  residing  in  the  West  Turret  of  the  Castle,  had 
young  ones,  which  I  handled,  and  thus  all  that  was  said  in 
the  prophecy  alluded  to  was  so  far  fulfilled,  although  I  am  ghid 
the  family  of  my  chief  still  enjoy  their  ancestral  possessions,  and 
the  worst  part  of  the  prophecy  accordingly  remains  unverified.  I 
merely  state  the  facts  of  the  case  as  they  occurred,  without 
expressing  any  opinion  whatever  as  to  the  nature  of  these  tradi- 
tionary legends  with  which  they  were  connected." 

He  also  gives  an  account  in  these  reminiscences  of  some 
of  his  experiences  while  endeavouring  to  establish  schools 
in  destitute  places  in  the  Hebrides  : — 

In  the  spring  of  1824  a  contention,  carried  on  with  great  party 
warmth,  took  place  among  the  leading  men  in  Edinburgh,  about 
the  election  of  Moderator  to  the  ensuing  General  Assembly. 
When  Principal  Baird,  Dr.  Inglis,  and  others  (the  leaders  of  the 
Moderate  party  in  the  Church)  applied  to  me  for  my  support  and 
influence,  I  replied  that  I  could  on  no  account  support  them  as  a 
party,  for  they  had  never  given  me  any  support  in  matters  con- 
nected with  the  Highlands,  which  I  had  repeatedly  brought  under 


336  APPEXDIX. 

their  notice,  and  thoy  bad  declined  in  an  especial  mannt^r  to  assist 
tbe  efforts  which  were  then  l)oin^  niride  to  obtain  a  quarto  edition 
of  the  Gaelic  Scriptures,  althouf^'h  it  had  been  repeatedly  brou;,'ht 
under  their  notice  ;  and  that,  after  explaining  to  theui  the  grievance 
of  having  only  a  Bible  of  so  small  a  text  as  a  12uio  edition,  which 
no  one  advanced  in  life  could  read,  I  received  for  answer  from  the 
leader  of  that  party  (on  whom  I  thought  I  had  made  some  impres- 
sion as  he  walked  in  his  drawing-room  before  breakfast) :  "  That 
is  the  breakfast  bell ;  just  advise  your  Highland  friends  to  get 
spectacles." 

The  subject  came  under  discussion  again  that  day,  and  it  ended 
by  the  Society  for  Promoting  Christian  Knowledge  most  generously 
coming  forv/ard  and  offering  to  give  us  the  long  wished  for  Quarto 
Volume,  to  our  great  joy,  and  somewhat  to  the  annoyance  of  our 
opponents. 

Dr.  Stewart  of  Luss  was  appointed  Convener  of  the  Committee 
chosen  to  carry  out  the  resolution,  and  no  better  man  for  the  pur- 
pose could  be  found  in  the  Church.  I  and  several  others  were 
associated  with  him  in  the  work,  and  I  did  my  best  to  aid  him  ; 
but  to  him  belongs  tbe  praise  for  the  perfect  manner  with  which  it 
was  executed. 

It  was  during  the  sittings  of  this  Assembly  that  I  resisted  all  the 
applications  made  to  me  by  Principal  Baird  to  throw  in  whatever 
little  influence  I  possessed  in  support  of  the  Moderate  interests, 
unless  he  and  his  party  would  aid  us  in  promoting  the  education 
of  the  people  in  the  Highlands  and  Islands,  where  a  melancholy 
destitution  of  the  means  of  education  prevailed. 

We  got  up  a  public  supper,  at  which  all  the  members,  lay  and 
clerical,  from  the  Highlands,  were  present.  We  drew  up  an 
address  to  the  Principal  and  his  friends,  in  which  they  were 
requested  to  institute  a  scheme  for  the  promotion  of  education  in 
the  Highlands  and  Isles. 

As  several  overtures  to  that  etTect  had  been  forwarded  to  the 
Assembly,  and  would  be  discussed  in  the  course  of  the  following 
week,  when  Dr.  luglis  was  to  bring  forward  his  motion  in  reference 
to  the  Indian  Scheme,  the  worthy  Principal  instantly  consented 
to  be  chairman  in  an  Educational  Scheme  for  the  Highlands  and 
Islands,  but  with  this  condition,  that  he  should  not  be  asked  to 
speak  in  the  General  Assembly.  As  I  was  in  possession  of  all  the 
facts  connected  with  educational  destitution  in  the  Highlands,  he 
put  into  my  bauds  the  "  Educational  Statistics  "  by  Lord 
Brougham,  which  were  very  voluminous  and  valuable. 

I  at  once  agreed  to  tbe  request  made  mc  by  the  Principal  and 


APPENDIX.  337 

Reveral  of  my  Highland  friends,  that  I  should  bring  this  matter 
under  the  notice  of  the  General  Assembly.  I  locked  myself  up  for 
several  days,  and  with  great  caro  prepared  the  speech  I  was  about 
to  deliver  before  the  General  Assembly  on  this  important  subject. 
When  the  day  fixed  for  the  discussion  arrived,  the  overtures  rehiting 
to  the  Indian  Scheme  and  to  the  Highland  Scheme  were  read,  when 
a  controversy  arose  as  to  the  priority  to  be  given  to  either.  Dr. 
Cook,  of  St.  Andrew's  (the  disappointed  candidate  for  the  moderator- 
ship,  but  a  most  deservedly  popular  leader  in  the  General  Assembly), 
insisted  that  the  Highland  Scheme  should  be  discussed  first,  while 
on  the  other  hand  Dr.  luglis  and  his  friends  insisted  that  preference 
should  be  given  to  the  Indian  Scheme. 

After  a  lengthened  discussion,  it  was  f),greed  that  I  should  be 
first  heard.  I  was  accordingly  called  upon  to  speak,  when  I  stated 
that  out  of  personal  respect  for  Dr.  Inglis,  who  was  my  senior  and 
a  father  of  the  Church,  I  should  give  precedence  at  once  to  him, 
provided  that  the  Assembly  came  to  no  resolution  about  the 
Hindoos  till  it  had  heard  what  we  had  to  say  about  the  Highlanders. 

After  the  worthy  Doctor  had  concluded  his  able  speech,  I 
brought  forward  our  case  at  great  length,  which  was  heard  with 
the  most  marked  attention,  and  our  statements  enthusiastically 
cheered.  Never  did  any  one  enter  upon  the  duties  he  had  under- 
taken with  more  enthusiastic  ardour  and  devotion  than  did  our 
venerable  chairman,  nor  did  his  efforts  for  one  moment  cease  till 
the  hour  of  his  death.  I  had  gi-eat  cause  for  thankfulness  that  I 
had  been  enabled  to  bring  this  most  important  subject  under  the 
notice  of  the  Church. 

It  was  agreed  that  the  convener  of  the  Committee  for  Highland 
Education,  the  secretary,  a-nd  I  should  visit  the  Highlands  and 
Isles  early  in  the  course  of  the  following  summer.  An  application 
was  made  to  the  Treasury  for  the  services  of  a  revenue-cutter,  to 
convey  us.  This  was  very  readily  granted.  Captain  Henry  Beatson, 
of  the  Swift,  was  directed  to  hold  himself  in  readiness  to  convey 
us,  and  to  take  in  stores  for  our  use ;  with  this  latter  part  of  his 
orders,  Captain  Beatson  most  amply  complied,  as  he  took  on  board 
at  Greenock  provisions  that  would  have  served  for  a  voyage  to 
Australia. 

We  first  visited  the  Island  of  Islay,  where  we  experienced 
princely  hospitality  from  Walter  Campbell,  to  whom  the  island 
at  that  time  belonged.  From  Islay  we  proceeded  to  Jura ;  from 
thence  to  Oban,  Lome,  Appin,  and  Lismore;  there  we  waited 
upon  the  Roman  Catholic  Bishop  McDonald,  who  received  us  with 
great  cordiality,  and  gave  us  letters  to  all  his  priests  in  the  Dorth, 

VOL.    I.  a 


338  APPLXDJX. 

recommending  us  to  their  special  attention.  We  explained  to  him 
at  great  length  the  nature  of  our  Education  Scheme,  assuring  him 
that  the  inspection  of  our  schools  should  always  be  open  to  the 
Roman  Catholic  priests,  and  that  no  books  should  be  given  to  the 
children  who  were  members  of  his  Church  except  such  as  he  should 
apjirove  of.  Wherever  we  stopped  on  our  delightful  voyage, 
fowls,  vegetables,  milk,  cream,  and  butter  and  cheese  were  sent 
on  board,  and,  where  they  were  not  so  sent,  Captain  Beatson  was 
not  shy  in  asking  them. 

We  visited  Coll  and  Tyree,  and  from  thence  to  the  Western 
Isles,  visiting  all  the  parishes  as  we  went  along,  and,  after  con- 
sulting with  the  proprietors  and  clergy,  and  ascertaining  all  the 
statistics  connected  with  the  various  places,  we  did  not  meet  with 
one  heritor  who  did  not  grant  ground  for  a  school-house  and 
garden  in  the  locality  fixed  upon.  In  Skye  I  went  from  Portree 
to  the  pari4i  of  Dunvegan  to  attend  the  Communion,  which  was 
administered  in  a  field  close  to  the  burial-ground  of  Kilmuir,  where 
some  of  my  ancestors  and  many  of  my  relatives  are  interred.  Tha 
scene  on  this  day  was  most  impressive  and  solemn.  The  place 
chosen  was  singularly  fitted  for  such  an  occasion,  being  a  natural 
amphitheatre  around  which  the  people  sat.  It  was  calculated  there 
were  upwards  of  three  thousand  people  present ;  and  a  more 
attentive  and  apparently  devout  congregation  I  have  seldom 
witnessed  assembled  together.  There  Avas  a  large  tent,  formed  of 
spars  and  oars  covered  with  sails,  erected  for  the  minister  and  his 
assistant,  while  some  of  the  better  class  erected  other  tents  for 
their  ow'n  use.  The  church-bell  rang  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour, 
during  which  time  not  one  word  was  spoken  by  any  one  in  this 
great  congregation. 

The  day  was  most  beautiful,  a  lovely  summer  day;  the  place  of 
meeting  was  admirably  chosen,  there  being  a  kind  of  ascent  on  the 
field,  which  made  a  raised  gallery.  Several  small,  romantic  glens 
led  to  it,  by  which  the  people  came  to  the  place  of  worship.  The 
sun  shone  brightly,  the  winds  were  asleep,  and  nothing  broke 
the  solemn  silence  save  the  voice  of  the  preacher  echoing  amidst 
the  rocks,  or  the  subdued  sighs  of  the  people.  The  preacher,  on 
such  an  occasion,  has  great  power  over  his  audience.  The  Gaelic 
language  is  peculiarly  favourable  for  solemn  efl'ect.  The  people 
seem  enfolded  by  the  pastoral  and  craggy  scenery  around  them — 
the  heavens  over  their  heads  seem  emblematic  of  the  residence  of 
the  (ioil  Whom  they  worship  and  of  the  final  home  they  are  taught 
to  hope  for.  They  delight  to  hear  the  voice  of  prayer  ascending 
from  the  place  where  they  stand  to  that  throne  above  from  which 


APPENDIX.  339 

nothing  but  the  blue  sky  seems  to  divide  them  ;  and  when  all  the 
voices  of  such  a  vast  congregation  are  united  in  religious  adora- 
tion, the  whole  creation  round  seems  to  be  praising  God.  I  have 
indeed  witnessed  the  effect  of  Gaelic  preaching  and  of  the  singing 
of  the  Psalms  in  that  language,  such  as  would  now  appear  almost 
incredible. 

Standing  among  the  thousands  on  that  day  assembled  round 
the  old  churchyard  of  Kilmuir— a  place  hallowed  by  many  tender 
associations— I  never  did  feel  more  overpowered. 

In  singing  the  last  verse  of  the  seventy-second  Psalm  in  our  own 
beautiful  Gaelic  version,  the  vast  crowd  stood  up,  and  repeated  the 
last  stanza  and  re-sung  it  with  rapt  enthusiasm.  On  this  occasion 
the  first  sermon  was  preached  by  the  minister  of  a  neighbouring 
parish. 

There  were  but  two  Table  Services,  at  which  a  vast  number  of 
communicants  sat.  The  tables,  and  places  for  sitting,  were  con- 
structed of  green  sods,  decently  covered.  I  had  the  privilege  of 
addressing  one  of  these  tables,  and  of  preaching  at  the  conclusion 
a  thanksgiving  sermon  from  the  words,  "  Grow  in  grace,  and  in 
the  knowledge  of  our  Lord  Jesus  Christ."  When  the  whole  service 
was  over,  many  old  people,  who  had  known  my  father  and  grand- 
father, came  to  offer  me  their  affectionate  blessing. 

The  appearance  of  Loch  Dunvegan  that  evening,  covered  with 
small  boats  conveying  the  hearers  to  thoir  homes,  and  the  crowds 
of  people  winding  their  way  among  the  dark  mountains,  was 
singularly  striking. 

I  feel  assured  that  such  a  scene  as  the  Communion  Service  that 
day  at  Dunvegan  has  never  since  been  witnessed  in  Skye,  and  I 
greatly  fear  never  will  be  again.  A  gloomy  fanaticism  followed 
the  breaking  up  of  the  Established  Church,  and  perhaps  in  no 
part  of  the  country  did  this  bitterness  exist  more  strongly  than 
in  the  Western  Islands.  In  Skye  especially  it  led  to  dividing 
families  and  separating  man  from  man,  and  altogether  engendered 
strife  which  I  fear  it  will  take  years  to  calm  down. 

I  returned  to  Portree  to  jo'n  the  venerable  Principal  and  ray 
other  friends. 


340  APPENDIX 


A  Cr.Acir  ATicox  the  Kirk  tcz\  Ei^:Tr.A  Foi.S'. 
First  Crack. 

f^dundcrs.   Are  ye  gaun  to  lee'  the  Kirk,  John  7 

John.  Deed,  Saunders,  I  am  no  vera  keen  about  it;  are  ye  gaun 
lo  lee't  yoursel'  ? 

S.  No  yet,  I'm  thinkin'  ;  what  for  should  I  ?  I  ha'e  been  an 
elder  in't  for  twenty  years  come  the  winter  sawcrament,  and  it's 
no  a  waur  Kirk  but  a  hantle  better  ane  syn'  I  cam'  till't,  and  until 
it  gets  waur,  I'll  bide  and  end  my  days  in't,  and  if  it  gets  waur,  I 
can  aye  lee't  whan  I  like. 

J.    Ye'll  no  ha'e  beard  the  deputations  I'se  warrant  ? 

S.  Wha  me  ?  Did  I  no  !  if  we  are  no  wise  it's  no  for  want  o' 
tellin'.     It  puts  my  auld  head  in  confusion  a'  this  steer ! 

J.  They're  surely  desperat'  keen  o'  the  fechtan  thae  ministers 
wi'  a'  their  crack  about  brithorly  love  and  peace  ! 

S.  Ye  may  say  sae  John,  but  ye  ken,  as  the  auld  sayin'  haes't, 
*'  the  best  men  are  but  men  at  the  best." 

J.  Na',  that's  a  truth!  But  pity  me,  could  they  no  maun  to 
reform  the  kirk  withoot  sic  a  bizz  ?  sic  a  fechtin'  in  sessions, 
presbyteries,  synods,  and  assemblies.  Na,  that'll  no  do,  thae 
maun  ha'e  a  Convention  like  the  Chartists. 

S.    A  Convocation,  John, 

J.  Weel,  weel,  it's  no  the  richt  Parliament,  that's  a'.  And 
that's  no  eneuch,  for  they  maun  baud  meetin's  every  ither  day  in 
their  ain  parishes,  and  ower  and  aboon,  they  maun  tak'  their 
neebours'  parishes  in  hand.  Na,  they're  no  dune  yet,  for  they 
maun  ha'e  committees  o'  a'  the  impudent,  speaking,  fashions,  con- 
ceited chiels,  that  are  aye  first  and  foremost  in  every  steer ;  and 
tae  keep  them  hett,  they're  aye  blcezing  at  them  wi'  circulars,  news- 
papers, and  addresses,  and  gif  ony  o'  them  change  their  mind,  be 
he  minister  or  man,  or  daur  to  think  for  himsel',  he  is  cry'd 
doon  for  a'  that's  bad  and  wicked  !  Na,  it's  desperate  wark, 
Saunders  I 

<S.  Deed,  John,  the  speerit  that's  abroad  's  gien  me  unco  con- 
cern for  the  weolfiire  o'  the  Kirk  o'  Scotland,  but  mair  especially 
for  the  Church  o'  Christ  in  the  land.  It's  richt  that  men  should 
ha'e  tlioir  ain  opinions,  and  if  they  think  them  gude,  to  baud  them 


APPENDIX.  i\i 

up  and  spread  them  in  a  richt  and  Christian  way  ;  but  this  way 
the  ministers  ha'e  enoo  o'  gaun  to  work,  I  canna  persuade  mysel' 
is  in  accordance  wi'  the  speerit  o'  the  apostles,  wha  gied  them- 
selves wholly  tae  prayer  and  the  preaching  o'  the  word,  and  were 
aye  thanktu'  whan  they  had  liberty  to  do  baith,  and  wha  said  that 
"  the  servant  of  the  Lord  must  not  strive,  but  be  gentle  towards  all 
men,"  and  that  "  tho  we  should  gi'e  our  bodies  to  be  burned,  we 
were  nothing,  unless  we  had  that  love  that  thinketh  no  evil,  that 
beareth  all  things,  that  hopeth  all  things." 

J.  They  put  me  in  mind  o'  bees  bummin'  and  fleeing  aboot  and 
doin'  little  wark,  and  makin'  nae  kame  in  their  ain  skaip  just  afore 
casting  or  like  thae  writer  bodies  at  an  election  gaun  gallopin' 
aboot  the  kintra,  keepin'  the  steam  up  wi'  speeches,  and  news- 
papers, till  the  poll  be  bye. 

8.  I  canna  weel  understaun't,  for  there  are  gude  gude  men 
amang  them.  They  are  surely  sair  mislaid  ?  for  nae  doot  they 
think  they're  richt.  I  think  that  pledging  way  is  a  sad  snare  tae 
the  conscience  ;  it  baith  keeps  a  man  frae  seein'  that  he's  wrang, 
or  when  he  sees  himsel'  wrang,  frae  puttin'  himself  richt. 

J.  It  wad  be  Faither  Matthews,  may  be,  that  pit  that  plan  in 
their  head  ? 

8.  Oo,  the  men  are  perfect  sincere,  and  gaun  aboot,  doubtless, 
to  pit  folk  in  mind  o'  what  they  think  their  duty,  and  o'  their  richts 
and  preeveleges. 

J,  Sincere  !  It's  nae  comfort  tae  me  tae  tell  me  whan  a  man's 
gaun  to  cut  my  throat  that  he's  sincere  ;  and  as  tae  stirrin'  up  the 
folk  to  min'  their  ain  rights,  they  needna  think  that  necessar',  for 
if  the  folk  are  wranged,  they'll  fin't  oot  wi'oot  the  ministers  tellin' 
them.  If  a  man  has  a  sair  leg  or  a  sick  body  ye  needna  keep 
prokin'  at  him  and  roarin'  in  bis  lug  a'  day  that  he's  no  weel  ;  or 
if  he's  in  jail,  or  turned  oot  o'  his  hoose  tae  the  streets,  ye  needna 
be  threepin'  doon  his  throat  that  he  canna  be  comfortable  ;  he  kena 
that  better  than  you ;  but  if  ye  get  baud  o'  a  nervish  fleed  walk 
body,  a  doctor  can  persuade  him  that  he's  deean,  and  mak'  him 
ruin  himsel'  wi'  pooders  and  bottles  ;  and  if  he's  hett  tempered 
and  proud,  a  Chartist  can,  maybe,  persuade  him  that  he's  a  slave, 
and  bound  wi'  aims.  Noo,  a'  this  mischief  comes  frae  gabby 
speakers  wha  mak'  the  evil,  and  then  lea'  decent  folk  tae  reform  it. 

S.  Ye're  ower  hett  on't  yersel,  John,  1  can  see  gude  on  baith 
sides,  and  difficulties  on  a',  and  muckle  tae  reform,  tho'  no  eneuch 
tae  destroy ;  but  here  comes  the  Dominie  and  Will  Jamieson,  the 
tailor,  alang  the  road,  and  ye'es  get  it  noo,  lad,  for  ye're  in  the 
hands  o'  the  Philistines. 


34*  APPENDIX. 

J.  I  am  but  a  plain  weaver,  Saunders,  and  no  fit  tae  arfrne  wi' 
the  Dominie,  tho'  I  carena  about  stickin'  up  tae  Will,  for  him  and 
me  has  mony  a  fecht  at  meal  hours  aboot  this  Nou-Intrusion  ;  but 
ye're  an  elder  o'  the  kirk,  and  should  staun'  up  for't.  Let  us  sit 
doon  on  the  brigg  here,  it's  a  grand  place  for  a  crack. 

Domime.    Good  day,  Alexander — good  day,  John. 

/S.  &  J .    Gude  day  tae  ye  baith. 

Will.    Ye'll  be  at  yer  auld  work,  nae  doot,  haudin'  up  the  Kirk  ? 

J,    An'  ye'll  be  at  yer  auld  wark,  pullin't  doon  ? 

S.  Indeed,  John  and  me  war'  jist  crackin'  aboot  our  auld  IvLfk, 
and  he  thinks  ye're  gaun  tae  ding  it  doon  a'  thegither. 

J.  Na,  I  ken  naething  about  it,  Maister.  Am  unco  concerned 
for  its  walfare,  and  me  and  Saunders  are  muckle  o'  ae  mind  that 
there's  something  fixr  wrang  whae'er  haes  the  blame. 

D.  You  may  say  so,  John  ;  they  are  surely  far  wrong  when 
Ministers  of  the  Gospel  can  be  forced  upon  reclaiming  congregations 
against  the  will  of  the  people  ;  when  the  civil  power  can  interfere 
with  the  Church  in  the  discharge  of  her  spiritual  duties  ;  when 
the  State,  not  Christ,  assumes  to  be  head  of  the  Church.  When 
all  power  of  exercising  Church  discipline  is  taken  from  her,  surely, 
then,  Ichabod,  "  the  glory  is  departed,"  may  be  written  upon  her 
walls  ! 

Will.  An'  the  ministers  maun  gang  noo  tae  the  Court  o'  Session 
tae  get  a  text  for  their  sermons,  an'  tae  see  wha's  tae  be  let  into 
the  communion  table,  for  nae  minister  nor  elder  can  cheep  noo 
unless  wi'  their  bidding,  and — 

J.  That's  a  wheen  blethers,  Will  !  an'  it's  aye  your  way  to  run 
aff  wi  the  harrows. 

5.  Stap  noo  lads,  dinna  begin  the  fechtin'  like  twa  dogs  ower  a 
bane.  But  I  wad  like,  Mr.  Brown,  tae  hear  your  opinion  anent 
this  question.  Ye  ha'e  mentioned  monj-^  a  bad  thing  (as  ye  say) 
that's  come  tae  the  Kirk,  and  it's  no  easy  tae  pick  a'  the  threeds  out 
o'  sic  a  ravelled  hank,  but  gif  the  tae  half  was  true  o'  what  ye  say 
I  wadna  stay  in  the  Kirk  anither  sabbath,  unless  we  could  get 
things  mended  !  But  either  o'  us  are  far  mista'en.  But  first  o'  a", 
what  think  ye  o'  the  Non-Intrusion  question  ? 

D.  I  think  that  no  man  should  be  minister  in  any  parish  con- 
trary to  the  will  of  the  people.  I  thought  this  question  was  settled 
in  the  mind  of  every  good  man. 

S.  Do  ye  mean  that  nae  man  should  be  a  minister  o'  a  parish  if 
the  folk  jist  say  they'll  no  ha'e  him,  wi'oot  glen  rhyme  or  reason, 
wi'oot  sayin'  why  or  wherefore,  wioot  sayiu'  black's  yer  e'e  or 
ought  against  him  ! 


APPENDIX.  343 

T).  Just  so,  if  the  Christian  people  say  no — no  it  must  be.  For 
who  dave  say  yes  ? 

6'.  That  was  aye  the  opinion  o'  the  Dissenters,  but  I  ne'er  kent 
that  it  was  the  law  o'  the  Kirk,  so  that  it  couldna  be  a  Kirk  at  a' 
wi'oot  it. 

B.  It  is  the  law  ;  read  from  First  and  Second  Books  of  Dis- 
cipline. 

a.  I  ha'e  read  them,  an'  I  couldna  see  that  law  in  them;  at 
least,  if  it  was  in  them  I  ne'er  kent  the  state  had  agreed  till't. 

W.  Tak'  oot  yer  Books  o'  Discipline,  Maister,  and  read  the  bits 
tae  Saunders,  he  an'  the  like  o'  him  are  keepit  in  darkness. 

J.  He  canna  be  in  darkness  wi'  sic  a  new  light  as  you,  Wull ; 
tho'  I  am  feared  ye'U  pruve  but  a  penny  dip  after  a'  ! 

D.  Here  are  the  Books  of  Discipline.  Let  us  look  at  them  ; 
there  is  the  first  book,  chap,  iv., — "  It  appertaineth  to  the  people 
and  every  several  congregation  to  elect  their  minister." 

o.    There  was  nae  Pawtronage  then  at  a',  it  seems. 

I).  No,  there  was  not  in  the  Protestant  church,  and  the  people 
had  a  right  to  elect  their  minister  ;  but,  if  within  forty  days 
t'ley  did  not  exercise  this  right,  the  superintendent  and  his 
counsel — 

J .    He  was  a  kind  o'  Bishop,  I  tak'  it. 

J).  Never  mind — but  he  presented,  after  examination,  a  minister 
to  the  vacant  congregation.  Now,  observe  these  words,—"  alto- 
gether this  is  to  be  avoided,  that  any  man  be  violently  intruded  or 
thrust  in  upon  any-  congregation  ; "  there,  ye  see,  is  the  Non- 
Intrusion  in  the  Firnt  Book  of  Discipline. 

S.  Let  me  see't,  sir.  But  what  say  ye,  Mr.  Brown,  to  the  rest 
o'  the  passage  ?  It's  no  fair  the  way  you  Non-Intrusionists  aye 
stop  at  that  part  o'  the  sentence,  for  it  gangs  on  to  say, — "But 
violent  intrusion  we  call  not  when  the  counsel  of  the  Church,  in  the 
fear  of  God,  and  for  the  salvation  of  the  people,  offereth  unto  them 
a  sufficient  man  to  instruct  them,  whom  they  shall  not  be  forced  to 
admit  before  just  examination."  An'  quite  richt  that,  but  see,  they 
daurna  reject  this  man  wi'oot  "just  and  sufficient  reason,"  for  it 
says,  "  that  they  shall  be  compelled,  by  the  censure  of  the  counsel 
and  churct  to  Toc^iv?  the  person  appointed  ond  appv^ved  by  the 
judgment  of  the  godly  and  learned." 

J.  That's  no  your  kind  o'  J..-n-Intrusion,  Will;  there  can  be 
nae  reasons  in  your  liberty-line  ? 

S.  But  they  tell  me  this  First  Buke  o'  Discipline  was  ne'er 
agreed  tae  by  the  State  :  that  it  was  just  made  by  the  Kirk  when 
she  was  in  the  voluntary  way,  nn'  whan  she  might  mak'  what  lawa 


344  APPENDIX. 

she  liko;l  wi'oct  losing  her  Establishment,  for  she  wasna  established 
at  ii'. 

\V .  Tak'  him,  Mr.  Brown,  then,  tae  the  Second  Book  o'  Dis- 
ciplin(^  if  this  auc  'ill  no  please  him. 

D,  Yes,  there  can  be  little  doubt  what  the  mind  of  the  Cbnrch 
was  in  reference  to  Non-Intrusion  when  that  book  waa  composed. 
In  chap.  xii.  it  is  declared  "  the  liberty  of  the  election  of  persons 
called  to  the  ecclesiastical  functions,  and  observed  without  inter- 
ruption so  long  as  the  Kirk  was  nou  corru'jtcd  by  antichrist,  we 
deshe  to  be  restored  and  retained  within  this  realm.  So  that  noue 
he  intruded  upon  any  conijre<iatlon  either  by  the  Prince  or  any  infe- 
rior persons  without  lawful  election,  and  the  assent  of  the  people 
over  whom  the  person  is  placed,  as  the  practice  of  the  apostolical 
and  primitive  Kirk,  and  good  order,  craves.  And,  because  this 
order  which  God's  word  craves  cannot  stand  with  patronage  and 
presentation  to  benefices  used  in  the  Pope's  kirk.  &c.,  &c.,  and  for 
so  much  as  that  manner  of  proceeding  has  no  ijroiDid  in  the  n-nid  of 
God,  but  is  contrary  to  the  same,  and  to  the  said  liberty  of  election, 
they  ought  not  now  to  have  place  in  this  light  of  reformations." 
So,  you  see,  that  patronage  is  "  against  the  word  of  God,"  "  flows 
from  the  Pope's  church,"  and  "  cannot  stand  with  the  liberty  oi 
election  and  of  consent  which  the  people  should  have." 

Will.    That'll  dae  ye  surely,  Saunders  ? 

S.  I  see  the  teetle  o'  that  chapter  is  "  Certain  special  Heads  o' 
Reformation  which  we  crave.'''  But  I  ha'e  been  telt,  and  ne'er 
heard  it  contradicted,  that  the  State  ne'er  gied  them  this  they  craved. 

D.   The  Second  Book  of  Discipline  was  agreed  to  by  the  State. 

S.  But  no  this  bit  o't,  for  surely  wi'  a'  they  say  against  paw- 
tronage  they  tuik  it  ? 

J.  I'se  warrant  they  wadna  tak'  a  Kirk  wi'  sic  an  unholy  thing, 
— did  they,  Maister  ? 

D.    Why — why,  I  believe  they  did. 

J.  Did  they  fac  !  an'  yet  they  say  that  what  ye  ca'  Non- 
Intrusion  couldna  staun'  wi't ! 

Will.  But  do  ye  no  see  that  if  they  hadna  ta'en  the  Kirk  wi' 
patronage  then,  they  couldna  ha'e  got  a  Kirk  established  at  a' '? 

J.  I  see  that  as  weel  as  you.  I  see  they  couldna  keep  Non- 
Intrusion  in  ae  hand  and  an  Establishment  in  the  ither  ;  that  these 
couldna  staun'  thegither  ;  but  were  they  no  gleg  tae  baud  a  grip  o' 
a'  gude  establishment  wi'  manses,  glebes,  and  stipends,  wi'oot 
Non-Intrusion,  than  to  ha'e  a  voluntary  Kirk  wi'oot  patronage, — • 
that's  what  they  should  dae  yet. 

D.    They  cannot  do  it ;  for  even  though  Non-Intrusion  (as  it  ia 


APPENDIX.  345 

in  the  Books  of  Discipline)  might  not  have  been  agreed  to  by  the 
State, — tho'  I  say  it  was — it  is  yet  in  the  Word  of  God,  and  that 
is  enough  for  me, — for  the  Church  rests  her  claims,  not  on  her 
Books  of  Discipline  only,  but  also  on  the  immovable  foundation  of 
the  Word  of  God. 

5.  I  am  vera  dootfu'  aboot  this  way  o'  fatherin'  ilka  thing  that 
comes  into  ane's  head  on  the  Word  ;  I  ne'er  could  see  ae  way  o' 
Kirk  government  in  the  Word  o'  God. 

D.  What !  you  an  elder  who  have  in  the  most  solemn  manner 
declared  that  you  believe  the  Presbyterian  form  of  Church  govern- 
ment to  be  agreeable  to  the  word  of  God !  you  to  speak  thus  ? 

S.  Aye !  agreeable  tae  the  sfeerit  o'  the  Word,  but  maybe  no 
found  in  the  leUtr  o'  the  Word. 

D.  But  can  you  think  that  the  great  Head  would  leave  no 
directions  to  His  Church  as  to  its  government  ? 

S.  Directions  !  there's  nae  doubt  he  has  left  directions ;  he 
has  telt  us  that  the  fisld  o'  our  wark  is  the  world,  that  the  seed  is 
to  be  sawn,  and  he  has  appointed  ministers  and  office-bearers  for 
the  sawing  o'  the  seed,  and  all  is  to  be  dune  that  much  fruit  may 
be  brought  forth  to  the  glory  o'  God ;  but  I  quastion  if  He  has 
gien  verra  preceese  directions  aboot  the  way  the  workmen  in  the 
vineyard  are  to  be  appointed,  or  about  a'  the  various  kinds  o' 
instruments,  the  pleughs,  the  harrows,  that  are  to  be  used  for 
cultivating  the  field,  or  for  workin't  sae  that  it  may  bring  forth  a 
gude  crap. 

Will.  That's  queer  doctrine  !  Did  he  no  tell  Moses  that  a' 
things  were  to  be  made  accordin'  to  the  pattern  gien  him  on  the 
mount  ? 

J.  Wha's  speakin'  about  Moses  ?  Ise  warrant  lie  was  obleeged  to 
mak'  a'  things  accordin'  to  the  pattern  because  he  got  ane  !  aye,  a 
pattern  o'  the  verra  candlesticks,  and  o'  their  nobs  !  And  doe  ye 
no  think  that  God  could  hae  gien  as  preceese  a  pattern  o'  the 
Christian  Kirk  if  it  had  been  his  wull,  that  there  should  be  ae  form 
for  the  whole  world  ?  or  as  Saunders  would  say.  If  every  field  and 
every  soil  was  just  to  be  ploughed,  harrowea,  anu  sawn  doon  in 
the  same  way  ? 

Will.  I  would  think,  John,  the  truth  wad  be  truth  in  every 
part ;  that  if  a  thing  was  true  in  Scotland,  it  wad  be  true  in  every 
ither  part  o'  the  woi.^. 

J.  I  would  think  sae  tae  Will,  but  we  are  no  speakin'  about  the 
truth,  but  ahoot  the  way  o  getten't,  and  it  doesna  hinder  a  man  to 
get  the  truth  as  weel  as  you,  tho'  he  doesna  clap  on  your  specks 
tae  see't ! 


346  APPEXDIX. 

T>.  But,  Alexander,  I  think  it  is  hardly  possible  for  any  anpre- 
jndicod  man  to  read  the  New  Testament,  and  not  to  see  clear 
intimations  of  the  will  of  the  great  Head  of  the  church,  in  reference 
to  the  right  inherent  in  its  members  to  elect  their  pastors  ;  or  at  all 
events,  to  exercise  such  an  influence  in  their  selection,  as  to  prevent 
any  one  being  placed  over  them  without  his  first  being  tried  by  the 
people. 

5.  I  canna  say,  Mr.  Brown,  that  I  ever  saw  that  verra  clearly 
set  doon  in  the  word  o'  God  ;  whar  do  ye  find't  ? 

T).  In  the  history  we  have  of  the  election  of  an  Apostle,  and  of 
a  Deacon,  and  in  the  commands  which  are  given  to  the  Christian 
people,  to  beware  of  false  prophets,  to  try  the  spirits  ;  examples 
which  if  followed,  and  commands  which  if  obeyed,  are  utterly 
inconsistent  with  any  view  of  Church  Government  but  the  one 
recognised  by  the  popular  party  in  the  church  of  Scotland. 

.7.    That's  a'  verra  full  text  that  ye  hae,  maister. 

W\U.  Break  it  doon  for  them,  and  gie  them't  in  parts  then  ; 
begin  wi'  the  elections  o'  the  Apostles  and  Deacons. 

D.  That's  easily  done,  and  I  candidly  think  ought  to  convince. 
We  have  an  account  of  the  election  of  an  apostle  in  the  first  chapter 
of  the  Acts.  It  is  there  said,  "  And  they  appointed  two,  Joseph 
called  Barsabas,  who  was  surnamed  Justus,  and  Matthias.  And 
they  prayed,  and  said,  Thou,  Lord,  which  knowest  the  hearts  of  all 
men,  show  whether  of  these  two  thou  hast  chosen,  that  he  may 
take  part  of  this  ministry  and  apostleship,  from  which  Judas  by 
transgression  fell,  that  he  might  go  to  his  own  place.  And  they 
gave  forth  their  lots  :  and  the  lot  fell  upon  Matthias  ;  and  he  was 
numbered  with  tb^  eleven  Apostles."  Is  not  that  popular 
election  ? 

S.  I  candidly  tell  you  that  I'm  verra  doubtful  about  it ;  for 
ye'l  notice,  in  the  first  place,  when  it's  said  "  //tcf/ appointed  two," 
and  "  theij  prayed,"  and  "  thexj  gave  forth  their  lots,"  it  doesna  say 
uha  did  this,  the  people  or  the  apostles.  Then  see  again  it  wasna 
them  that  selected  but  Christ,  •'  shew  whether  of  these  two  Thou 
hast  chosen,"  for  he  had  chosen  all  the  others;  and  lastly,  the 
mind  of  Christ  was  found  out  by  lot  !  ]\Iy  opinion  is,  that  this 
was  a  stipenuitunil  way  o'  choosin'  out  an  office-bearer, — ane 
that's  no  in  the  Christian  church  at  a'  noo,  viz.,  a)i  apostle. 

Will.  It  proves  to  my  mind  that  iolk  should  hae  a  say  in  the 
election  o'  a  minister. 

J.    It  proves  jist  as  weel  vote  by  ballot  I 

D.  I  am  merely  stating  you  my  opinion,  and  you  have  a  perfect 
right  to  state  yours.    I  think  of  course  that  the  election  of  Matthias 


APPENDIX,  347 

is  intended  to  guide  the  Christian  Church  in  all  ages.  This  opinion 
is  confirmed  by  what  took  place  in  the  electing  of  a  deacon. 

J.  We  hae  nae  deacons  at  a'  noo  ;  the  only  ane  I  ever  kent  waa 
auld  Jock  Morton,  the  deacon  o'  the  tailors. 

S.  Whist,  John,  wi'  your  nonsense  ;  mony  o'  our  Kirks  hae 
deacons,  and  we  would  hae  them  here  if  the  office  o'  the  deacon 
wasna  performed  by  the  elders,  and  I  think  the  two  offices  should 
be  distinct  in  every  Christian  congregation. 

Will.    And  elected  by  the  people. 

D.  That  I  think  is  intimated  very  clearly  and  beyond  all  doubt, 
in  the  history  given  us  in  the  sixth  chapter  of  the  Acts.  There  can 
be  no  doubt  that  they  were  elected  by  the  people,  for  we  read  that 
the  twelve  called  the  multitude  and  said,  "  wherefore,  brethren, 
look  ye  out  among  you  men  whom  we  will  appoint  over  this 
business,  but  we  will  give  ourselves  continually  to  prayer  and  the 
ministry  of  the  word,"  and  it  is  added  that  the  saying  pleased  the 
people,  and  that  they  elected  the  deacons  accordingly  ;  what  can 
be  plainer  ? 

S.  But  a  deacon's  no  a  minister,  he  doesna  teach — but  looks 
after  the  poor  ;  and  it  was  but  richt  and  fair  that  the  folk  that  sub- 
scribed the  money  should  elect  frae  amongst  them,  them  that  were 
to  pay  it  awa ;  and  when  the  people  pay  their  ministers  it  will  be 
time  eneuch  to  quastion  whether  they  should  elect  them. 

J.  It's  my  mind,  frae  readin'  that  history,  that  had  it  no  been 
for  the  grumbling  o'  the  Grecians  against  the  Hebrews,  for  their 
widows  no  gettin'  their  ain  share  o'  the  puir's  money,  there  wad 
hae  been  nae  deacons  at  a'  !  There's  twa  things,  hooever,  gien  us 
plain  there,  namely,  that  the  kirk  had  deacons  then,  and  that  the 
minister  gied  themselves  wholly  to  prayer  and  preaching  o'  the 
word  then,  but  I  canna  see  thae  twa  things  in  the  kirk  noo, 
and  surely  thae  things  are  plainer  than  Non-Intrusion. 

D.  If  the  people  then  were  enabled  to  judge  of  men  having  such 
high  qualifications  as  these  "  Men  of  honest  report,  full  of  the 
Holy  Ghost  and  wisdom,"  I  think  they  can  hardly  ever  be  called 
upon  to  judge  of  higher.  Would  that  they  had  a  body  from  whom 
they  could  make  such  noble  selections  ! 

S,  Ye  may  say  sae,  maister  !  and  would  that  we  had  sic'  a  body 
o'  communicants  as  electors,  and  that  we  had  sic  a  presbytery  as 
the  aposV;S5  to  chack  their  election  !  that's  what  I  say,  that  thinr/s 
that  might  work  weel  eneuch  then  ivill  no  dae  noo. 

Will.  I'll  ne'er  agree  tae  that !  There's  naething  surely  should 
be  in  the  Christian  Church  noo  that  wasna  in  the  Christian  Church 
then  ;   if  there  is,  it  canna  be  accordin'  to  the  word  o'  God. 


348  APPENDIX. 

J.  Niiething  in  the  Christi.-in  Church  noo  but  what  was  in't 
then  !  Whare  will  ye  get  parishes,  and  parish  Kirks,  and  stipends, 
and  glches,  and  heritors'  meetings  in  the  early  Christian  Kirk  ?  I 
wunder,  Will,  hoo  ye  ever  cam  intae  the  Kirk  o'  Scotland  wi'  that 
wheen  nonsense  ?  If  ye  hadna  some  scent  o'  sense  in  ye,  I 
wadtia  wunder  tae  hear  ye  propose  that  a'  the  communicants  noo 
should  ki<s  ane  anither,  as  they  did  then. 

11/7/.  The  matter's  ower  serious  for  that  jokin' ;  ye're  frightened 
for  tho  argument  aboot  tryin'  the  speerits ;  that's  aye  hair  in  yer  neck. 

iS.  I  wish  ye  would  baith  tak'  an  example  frae  Mr.  Brown,  wha 
states  his  argument  calmly  and  decently,  and  then  lets  folk  judge 
it.     What's  your  mind  on  that  passage  aboot  tryin'  the  speerits  ? 

D.  The  passage  is  this,  '•  Beloved,  believe  not  every  spirit  but 
try  the  spirits,  whether  they  are  of  God,  because  many  false 
prophets  are  gone  into  the  world."  These  are  the  words  of  the 
beloved  disciple,  who  probably  had  in  his  eye  the  equally  clear 
commandment  of  his  master,  "  Beware  of  false  prophets,  who 
come  to  you  in  sheep's  clothing,  but  inwardly  are  ravenous 
wolves." 

8.    And  what  do  these  passages,  do  you  think,  prove  ? 

1).  Tliey  prove  that  "  the  spirits,"  "  the  prophets,"  or 
"  ministers  "  aio  to  be  tried  by  the  disciples  ;  that  this  is  not 
a  privile.^e  conferred  upon  them  by  the  church,  which  they  may 
or  in:iy  not  e.Yeicise,  which  the  church  can  give  or  take  away ; 
but  that  it  is  a  solemn  duty  which  the  Christian  people  must  per- 
form, as  they  shall  answer  to  their  great  Head  ;  now  oui"  Ivirk 
believing  that  the  Christian  people  had,  during  the  sway  of 
moderatism,  been  deprived  of  this  right,  and  desiring  to  legislate 
according  to  the  word  of  God,  did  in  1834  pass  the  much  abused 
veto  law. 

J.  A  lang  text  again,  Mr.  Brown  1  but  I  dootna  Saunders 
would  gie  a  gude  comment  on't. 

S.  It  seems  tae  me  verra  doobtfu'  what  is  meant  by  the  com- 
mand "  try  the  spirits."  Some  commentators  think  that  it  was 
an  extraordinary  gift  o'  the  Speerit  which  the  early  Christian 
Church  had — this  power  o'  disceruin'  the  speerits  o'  ither  men — 
tae  ken  whether  they  should  be  admitted  as  church  members,  or 
tae  ken  whether  the  prophets  were  tellin'  the  truth  or  tellin'  lies 
when  they  were  foretelling  things  to  come.  But  even  grantin' 
that  the  meanin'  o'  the  passage  is  such  as  ye  mak'  it  oot,  what's 
tae  hinder  the  disciple  frae  trying  speerits  noo  as  then,  and  frae 
being  beware  o'  false  prophets '?  Every  disciple  in  the  parish 
Church  should  try  the   speerit   o'   the  parish  minister,   and   if  he 


APPENDIX.  3  fc) 

doesna  think  that  he  is  gaidecl  by  the  Sp'rit  of  God,  that  he's 
no  preaching  the  gospel,  he  should  try  the  speerit  o'  anither 
minister. 

Will.  But  what  if  ye  hae  nae  ither  minister  tae  gang  till  ;  I 
maun  tak'  the  parish  minister  though  ye  diuna  like  him,  or  else 
want. 

S.  A  sair,  sair  business,  black  business,  if  a  presbytery  o' 
ministers  meeting  in  the  name  o'  Christ,  pit  in  a  man  that 
doesna  preach  the  glad  tidings  o'  the  gospel  fully  and  freely  ! 
Sic  things  maybe,  but  we  are  a'  sinfu'  men,  an'  there's  nae  system 
perfect ;  and  even  if  there  war  popular  election,  we  read  o'  a 
time  when  they  wuU  not  endure  sound  doctrine,  but  after  their 
own  lusts  shall  they  heap  tae  themselves  teachers,  having  itching 
ears,  and  they  shall  turn  away  these  ears  from  the  truth,  and 
shall  be  turned  into  fables  ;  and  I'm  auld  eneuch  tae  ken  that 
there's  as  muckle  pawtronage,  o'  as  tyrannical  a  kind  as  e'er  waa 
in  the  kirk,  among  mony  dissenters — that  they're  no  a  bit  better 
l^leased,  nor  sae  weel  pleased  mony  o'  them,  wi'  their  ministers, 
than  we  are  wi'  ours,  and  they  hae  nae  cause  tae  be  sae. 

Will.   But  ist  no  an  unnatural  thing  pawtronage '? 

8.  It  may  be  unnatural  tae  see  a  (ferman  lad  and  an  English 
lassie  owre  the  great  British  empire,  but  like  pawtronage,  it  works 
maybe  better  than  if  the  King  was  tae  be  elected. 

J.  But  do  ye  think,  maister,  that  a  Kirk  canna  be  a  Kirk  o' 
Christ  unless  the  folk  hae  the  power  ye  speak  o'  ? 

D.  No  Church  can  be  a  Church  of  Christ  unless  it  obeyg  Christ's 
commands. 

J.  Bootless  ;  but  then  ye  see  a'  the  dispute  is  aboot  what  the 
commands  o'  Christ  are,  an'  if  t'ey  be  what  ye  mak'  them  oot  tae 
be,  if  the  people  maun  a'  try  the  speerits  o'  their  pastors,  what 
becam'  o'  the  Kirk  o'  Scotland  up  tae  1834  ?  Wha  tryed  the 
speerits  o'  thae  ministers  that  are  crying  oot  sao  muckle  aboot  the 
richt  o'  the  people  tae  do  sae  noo  ?  Wha  tryed  the  speerit  o'  that 
lang-legged  chiel,  what  d'ye  cae  him,  wi'  the  spats  and  umbrella, 
that  cam'  here  wi'  the  deputation  ?  I  am  telt  there  wasna  twenty 
signed  his  call. 

WM.  The  pastoral  relation  canna  be  formed  withoot  full  con- 
sent, for  he  that  cometh  in,  ye  ken,  by  a  wrang  door,  is  a  thief 
and  a  robber. 

J.  Sae  be  it ;  but  if  he  comes  in  by  the  wrang  door,  and  stays 
in,  he  is  a  thief  and  a  robber,  till  he  gangs  out  and  comes  in  by 
the  richt  way ;  but  will  ony  o'  ye  tell  me  what  way  the  Kirk  o' 
Scotland  was  before  the  passing  o'  this  veto  ? 


35'>  API' END  IX. 

D.  For  112  yeirs  she  was  under  moderate  rule,  and  the  rights 
of  the  Christian  people  were  trampled  upon. 

Will.  The  Christian  people  couldna  cheep,  they  had  nae  power 
at  a',  and  the  kirk  wasna  gaun  according  to  the  mind  o'  God,  hut 
clean  ai^'itiiist. 

J.    We  hae  surely  been  in  a  desperate  state. 

Will.    We  couldna  weel  be  waur. 

J.  I'se  warrant  the  Kirk  o'  Scotland  couldna  be  a  Kirk  o'  Christ 
then. 

Will.    Peed  she  was  far  frae't. 

J.  I  canua  thole  this  nonsense  !  If  she  wasna  a  Krk  o'  Christ, 
hoo  did  a'  they  ministers  that  are  bleezing  against  her  come  into 
her  at  a'  ?  hoo  did  ye  become  a  communicant  in  her  ?  hoo  did 
God  bless  her,  and  mak'  her  a  blessing  ?  And  if  she  uas  a  Kirk  o' 
Christ  without  your  vetoes,  would  she  no  continue  a  Kirk  o'  Christ 
tho  a'  your  vetoes  were  done  awa'  wi',  and  a'  this  stramash  put  an 
end  to,  and  she  to  gang  back  to  what  she  was  before  1884  ? 

S.  Tae  gang  back,  but  in  truth  tae  gang  forward  !  for  Fse  des- 
perate keen  for  gnde  reform,  and  wad  like  the  folk  had  mair  power  ; 
but  I  wad  like  to  get  it  in  a  legal  way  ;  I  would  like  to  iinprm-e  the 
machine,  put  in  new  screws,  and  mend  what  was  awanting,  and 
gie't  plenty  o'  oil ;  but  I'm  vo  for  hreakiiKj  doini  the  niachiiie  a'  the- 
(jither  that  has  done  sae  muokle  gude,  because  it's  no  fashioned  to 
the  pattern  o'  this  man  or  that.  It  was  that  veto  law  played  a' 
the  mischief ! 

J.  Wi'oot  even  being  agreeable  to  the  word  of  God  !  according 
as  Mr.  Brown  lays't  doun. 

Will.    It  uas  agreeable  to  the  word  o'  God. 

J.  Was't  ?  ye  tell  us  that  a'  the  disciples  should  tiy  the  speerits 
• — that  a'  the  disciples  should  hae  a  say  in  the  election  o'  a 
minister ;  noo  ane  wad  think  that  the  Kirk  would  gie  us  popular 
election  after  that.  Na,  says  the  Kirk,  nane  o'  the  female  disciples 
— and  the  female  disciples  were  among  the  greatest  ornaments  of 
the  early  Kirk — nane  o'  them  are  to  hae  a  say — nane  o'  the  young 
men  are  to  hae  a  say — nane  o'  the  servant-lads  are  to  hae  a  say — 
nane  but  the  male  heads  are  tae  cheep — as  if  a'  the  sense  o'  the 
congregation  was  in  their  heads  ;  and  little  sense  after  a'  maun  be 
in  them  1  for  it's  no  expected  o'  them  that  they  can  hae  sense 
eneugh  tae  gie  reasons  ;  but  just  tae  say.  No  !  That's  a  droll  way 
o'  trying  the  speerits,  and  being  ready  to  gie  a  reason  for  the  faith 
that's  in  them  tae  every  man.  Noo  the  veto  was  nather  agreeable 
to  the  word  o'  God  as  its  laid  down  by  you,  nor  was  it  agreeable 
to  the  law  o'  the  land  as  laid  down  by  all  the  judges.     And,  if  she 


APPENDIX.  3^1 

laas  ,crot  into  this  scrape  it  wasna  for  want  o'  iellin'  and  warnin'. 
RFony  a  time  it  was  said  in  the  Assembly  that  a'  this  mischief  wad 
come.  Even  the  gude  Dr.  M'Crie,  I'm  telt  by  Mr.  Strulhers,  said 
beiore  the  House  o'  Commons  afore  it  was  passed,  that  the  Kirk 
had  nae  powers  tae  pass  this  law,  and  that  it  wad  bring  us  into 
confusion. 

S.  I  am  clear  about  its  unlawfulness,  and  that  when  the  Kirk 
passed  that  law  she  took  the  first  word  o'  flyting,  and  that  her 
determination  to  keep  that  law,  tho'  it  has  been  declared  illegal, 
has  been  the  grand  cause  o'  her  late  troubles. 

Will.  There  ye  gang  with  your  Erastianism,  putting  the  law  o' 
the  land  higher  than  the  law  of  God— putting  the  ceevil  courts 
aboon  the  church  of  Christ — making  the  king  the  head  o'  the  Kirk. 

J.  Hae  ye  got  into  this  line.  Will,  o'  calling  your  neighbour 
nicknames ;  and  cramming  doon  folks'  throats  opinions  they 
abominate,  and  putting  sentiments  in  theii  tongues  they  never 
uttered  ?     It's  no  fair. 

D.  Neither  is  it  fair  for  you  to  assert  that  the  church  disobeys 
the  law  and  is  a  rebel  ? 

S.   Does  she  no  disobey  the  law  ? 

D.    No  !  for  she  denies  that  it  is  the  law. 

S.  But  haena  the  ceevil  courts  declared  that  the  Kii-k  broke  the 
law,  and  broke  her  bargain  wi'  the  state,  when  she  passed  the 
veto  ;  that  she  interfered  wi'  the  ceevil  richts  o'  pautrons,  and  that 
as  lang  as  she  keeps  the  veto  she's  breaking  the  law  ? 

D.  Yes,  the  civil  courts  have  declared  so,  but  the  Church  Courts 
have  declared  otherwise.  Now  the  Church  Courts  are  as  much 
courts  of  the  country  as  the  civil  courts  are,  and  have  an  equal  right 
with  them  to  interpret  law  as  affecting  the  church  ;  you  surely  do 
not  think  that  the  civil  courts  should  have  the  power  of  laying 
down  the  law  to  the  Church ;  as  to  what  her  duty  is  in  spiritual 
matters  ;  that  would  be  subjecting  the  church  to  the  state  with  a 
vengeance ! 

<S.  Na  !  naebody  that  I  ken  thinks  sae,  and  Mr.  Simpson  tells 
me  that  the  ceevil  courts  intend  nae  sic  thing,  but  only  lay  doon 
the  bargain  the  Kirk  made  wi'  the  state  tae  keep  her  till't.  Let 
me  speir  at  you.  Sir,  are  there  ony  laws  o'  the  State  aboot  the 
puttin'  in  o'  ministers  at  a'  ?  or  has  the  State  left  the  established 
Kirk  to  mak  ony  law  she  likes — tae  hae  patronage  or  nae  patronage 
— election  by  the  male  heads — an  election  by  the  communicants, 
just  as  she  pleases — tae  try  what  man  she  likes  for  a  parish  or  no 
tae  try  ;  or  are  there  ony  Acts  o'  Parliament  or  ony  laws  o'  the 
land  ahoot  thae  things  ? 


3-2  APPEXDIX. 

P.  There  have  certainly  been  many  Acts  of  Parliament  about 
these  matters. 

[Vill.  That's  whaur  the  Voluntaries  say  we  arc  wrang,  tae  hae 
thae  tbin<:fs  in  Acts  o'  Parliament  at  a'  I 

J.  An  ye  would  like  tae  hae  acts,  and  no  tae  be  bund  by  them ! 
But  what  I  say  is  this,  there's  nae  harm  to  be  bund  tae  a  thing  we 
liae  agreed  tae,  nor  to  be  bund  doon  tae  dae  what's  richt,  and  tae 
M'alk  in  ae  road  when  it's  for  the  gude  o'  the  hail  community,  it's 
hotter  this  than  tae  hae  a  voluntary  liberty  o'  loupin  ower  hedges 
and  dykes. 

^'.  You  twa  are  desperate  keen  for  a  colleyshangy,  ye're  aye 
interrupting  me  and  Mr.  Brown.  Ye  were  saying,  Sir,  there  were 
dill'ereut  acts  aboot  the  puttin'  in  o'  ministers ;  noo  wha  passed 
thae  acts  ?  and  for  what  Kirk  ? 

D.  They  were  passed  of  course  by  the  British  Parliament,  for 
the  protection  of  the  Church  of  Scotland. 

S.    The  British  Parliament  !  is  that  a  ceevil  body  ? 

D.  Undoubtedly  it  is  !  you  cannot  suppose  it  an  ecclesiastical 
body? 

S.  Weel,  surely  the  acts  o'  a  ceevil  body  are  ceevil  acts,  and 
•whatna  court  but  a  ceevil  court  should  explain  them  ? 

D.  But  you  will  observe  that  these  acts  refer  to  spiritual  and 
religious  mutters. 

J.  Sae  do  the  acts  aboot  the  Sabbath  day ;  for  wasna  Tarn 
Speirs,  that  ne'er-do-weel,  afore  the  Shirra,  Friday  was  aught-days, 
and  tiied  by  him  for  breaking  thae  acts. 

D.  You  observe,  Sanders,  what  I  before  said  was,  that  while 
the  civil  courts  should  interpret  these  acts,  the  Church  Courts 
should  interpret  them  as  well. 

Will.  And  that's  but  fair  play.  If  twa  folk  war  disputin'  aboot 
a  march  dyke,  it's  surely  richt  that  theae  man  should  hae  as  muckle 
say  aboot  it  as  the  tither ;  and  sae  whan  the  Kirk  and  State  dilfer 
aboot  their  march,  it's  but  fair  the  Ivirk  should  hae  a  say  aboot  it 
as  weel  as  the  State. 

J.  Aye,  Will — and  baith  should  gang  tae  a  third  pairty — the 
ceevil  courts,  that  explain  a'  bargains,  and  refer  the  matter  tae 
them.  But  ye  wad  like  the  Kirk  tae  draw  her  ain  march  wi"  the 
state,  and  naebody  tae  challenge't,  wi'oot  his  being  caad  an  enemy 
tae  the  headship ! 

S.  AVeel  !  I  hae  nae  objections  as  an  elder,  that  the  ceevil 
courts  should  hae  the  sole  power  o'  sayan — no  what  a  Kirk  o' 
Christ  should  teach  or  do,  that  nae  power  on  yirth  can  say — but 
o'  dechu'ing  what  preeveleges  the  state  has  promised  tae  gie  the 


APPENDIX.  353 

Kirk  o'  Scotland  as  an  establishment,  and  what  she  has  pledged 
hersel  tae  dae  while  established.  I  ken  mysel  that  I  haena  the 
education  nor  the  knowledge  tae  ken  law— far  less  tae  gie  a  vote 
against  tha  judges  and  the  lord  chancellor  aboot  the  law  o'  the 
land.  Nor  do  I  think  I'm  gaun  against  the  headship  in  this ;  for  I 
ne'er  kent  that  tae  explain  Acts  o'  Parliament  was  ane  o'  the 
preeveleges  conferred  on  me  as  a  Christian  man.  And  let  me  ax 
— if  the  twa  courts  hae  the  richt  tae  explain  the  verra  same  act — 
what's  to  be  dune  if  they  gie  twa  meanings  tie't  ?  they  maun 
baith  be  law  ?  hoo  can  a  man  serve  twa  maisters  ? 

J.  Na,  that's  a  truth.  If  the  Ceevil  Courts  say  the  act  means  sae 
and  sae,  that  the  craw  is  hl-ack  ;  and  if  the  Kirk  Courts  say  it  means 
sae  and  sae,  that  the  craw's  white;  and  if  I  maun  obey  the  law, 
and  if  my  gude  name,  and  my  comfort,  and  the  comfort  o'  a  my 
family;  na,  maybe  the  peace  and  welfare  o'  the  community  and 
kirk  depends  on  my  sayan  whether  the  craw's  white  or  black, 
what  i'  the  world  can  I  do,  when  I  want  tae  dae  what's  richt  ? 

D.  Let  the  Church  Courts  follow  out  their  interpretation  with 
spiritual  effects,  and  let  the  civil  courts  follow  out  their  interpreta- 
tion with  civil  efftc's,  and  this  prevents  all  clashing. 

S.  It's  a  guy  confused  business  !  and  I  wunder  hoo  folk  are  sae 
mad  at  ane  anither  when  they  differ  on't,  and  hoo  some  o'  the 
lassocks  and  lads  are  sae  gleg  sure  aboot  it ;  and  abune  a'  hoo  they 
would  ding  doon  a  Kirk  aboot  sic  difficult  questions.  But  yet  I 
canna  see  hoo  your  way  can  keep  the  twa  Courts  sundry  ;  for  what 
if  each  o'  them  bid  a  man  do  the  same  thing  ?  And  I'm  tell't  that 
this  is  just  what  they  did.  The  Ceevil  Courts  in  explaining  the 
law,  said  tae  the  presbyteries  o'  Strathbogie  and  Auchterarder, 
"Gude  or  bad,  the  lair  is  that  ye  are  tae  try  the  presentee  and  no 
the  folks,  and  if  ye  think  him  fit  for  the  place  the  hari/ain  is,  ye 
are  to  put  him  in  ;  the  craw's  black!  "  Then  the  Kiik  courts  said  : 
"  The  law  is  that  the  folks  are  tae  try  him,  and  if  they  are  no 
pleased,  ye  are  tae  hae  naething  tae  do  with  him  ;  that's  the  lair  ; 
the  crawls  white/"  "Black  it  is!  "  says  the  Presbytery  o'  Strath- 
bogie. "  Gif  ye  say  sae,"  says  the  Kirk  Courts,  "  doon  wi'  your 
lishences,  and  awa  oot  o'  your  parishes."  "  We  say  sae,"  says 
the  presbytery  o'  Strathbogie,  "  for  we  think  the  Ceevil  Courts  hae 
alanc  the  richt  tae  tell  us  what's  the  meaning  o'  an  Act  o'  Parlia- 
ment." "Richt,"  says  the  Ceevil  (joarts  !  "andwe'l  protect  ye 
in  your  parishes,  and  no  let  ye  be  put  to  beggary  for  obeying  the 
law."  "  The  craw's  white!  "  says  the  Presbytery  o'  Auchteraidef, 
"  and  we'l  no  try  the  presentee."  "  Wrang,"  says  the  Ceevil 
Courts,  "  we'l  fine  ye  for  no  doing  your  duty,  and  for  keeping 
VOL.    I.  A  A 


35+  APPENDIX. 

a  man  unlawfully  frae  the  parish."  "  Richt,"  f!a5'S  the  Churt'b 
Courts,  "  and  ne'er  gio  in  that  the  craw's  hlack,  for  if  ye  df,o  yc'U 
be  enemy  tae  your  Kirk."  Suy  what  ye  like  it's  a  bothersome 
business  ! 

D.  But  I  have  a  practical  question  to  put  to  you,  Saunders. 
Supposing  the  civil  courts  were  to  command  you  to  do  auythiug 
contrary  to  the  law  of  God,  would  you  as  an  elder  or  a  member  of 
the  Church  obey  it? 

Will.    Ay,  that's  the  question. 

S.  Hoo  am  it  be  a  question  with  a  Christian  man  ?  Surely 
even  a  babe  in  Christ  kens  that  it  is  his  duty,  his  first  and  fore- 
most duty,  to  obey  God  rather  than  men,  tho'  these  men  should 
be  members  of  Parliament,  or  members  of  Assembly,  statesmen  or 
churchmen. 

J.    Weel  done,  Saunders  ! 

D.  And  what  would  you  do  then,  if  you  were  put  in  this  posi- 
tion, the  Civil  Courts  telling  you  that,  as  an  office-bearer  in  the 
Establishment,  you  were  bound  to  do  something,  which  you  think 
contrary  to  your  duty  to  Christ  ? 

S.  I  would  leave  the  Kirk,  I  wadna  try  and  break  the  bargain  ; 
but  I  would  say  tae  the  state.  The  bargain's  a  bad  ane.  and  I'll  leave 
your  service  and  be  a  Voluntary,  and  then  I  can  laiak  a  law  the  day, 
and  change  it  the  morrow. 

D.  Leave  the  Church  !  when  you  are  acting  agreeably  to  the 
mind  of  God,  and  obeying  his  most  holy  word  !  Is  that  not  giving 
up  all  spiritual  independence,  the  right  to  act  in  spiritual  matters, 
uncontrolled  by  any  power  in  earth. 

S.  I  believe  the  Kirk  has  perfect  liberty  and  spiritual  indepen- 
dence to  do  the  wark  she  promised  to  do,  to  teach  the  doctrines 
she  agreed  tae  teach  an  an  Ks'jhUshcd  Kirk,  but  that  she  has  nao 
power  tae  gang  beyond  that  without  becoming  a  Voluntary  Kirk. 

D.  You  surely  don't  mean  to  assert  that  a  Church  of  Christ  on 
becoming  Established,  can  give  up  a  particle  of  that  liberty  which 
essentially  belongs  to  her  as  a  Church  of  Christ  ! 

S.  Certainly  not !  but  it's  maybe  no  easy  to  say  what  liberty 
essentially  belongs  to  a  Kirk  o'  Christ ;  but  I  ken  this,  that  there's 
mony  a  thing  she  might  do  as  a  VohmUinj  Ku-k,  that's  completely 
oot  o'  her  power  to  do  as  long  as  she  is  an  Eatnblished  Kirk. 

Will.    I  think  ye'll  no  mak  that  oot,  Saunders. 

S.  It's  no  ill  tae  mak  that  out.  Hae  we  spiritual  independence 
to  change  ae  doctrine  in  the  Confession  of  Faith  ?  hae  we  spiritual 
independence  tae  put  awa  patronage  ?  tae  gie  the  election  tae  the 
people  ?  tae  put  down  ony  o'  the  Kirk  Courts  '?  or  tae  pit  up  ony 


APPENDIX.  355 

mair  ?  Hae  the  ministers  power  tae  draw  their  stipends,  and  tae 
preach  whaur  they  please  ? 

WUl.    We  surely  hae. 

S.  We  surely  hae  na  as  an  Establishmevt :  nae  doubt  the  Kirk  o' 
Scotland  might  mak  a'  thae  changes  the  morrow,  but  she  would  be 
nae  langer  the  Kirk  Establishment.  She  maun  gie  up  her  connection 
■wi'  the  State,  or  be  bound  wi'  the  acts  that  made  her  an  established 
Kirk  ;  gie  up  her  bargain  or  keep  it. 

Will.  But  if  the  Church  cam'  to  the  opinion,  that  ony  act  was 
against  the  Word  of  God,  would  she  no  be  bound  to  disobey  that, 
or  would  she  hae  nae  leeberty  tae  change  it  ? 

S.  No  !  she  would  hae  liberty  to  become  a  Voltmtar>j  Kirk,  but 
she  could  hae  nae  liberty  as  lanc)  as  she  remai)ied  in  connection  ivith 
the  State  to  change  the  bargain  ivithout  the  State  agreeing.  Do  ye 
think,  that  if  the  State  had  agreed  to  the  veto  law,  that  the  Kirk 
could  hae  changed  that  law  the  week  after  and  gien  the  power  to 
the  folk  to  elect  the  ministers  ?  if  the  Kirk  can  do  this,  I  kenna 
what's  the  gude  o'  bothering  itsel  to  get  acts  o'  Parliament  at  a'. 

J.  There's  a  hantle  o'  talk  aboot  the  Kirk  said  this  and  the  Kirk 
said  that  ;  but  after  all,  I'm  thinking  it  just  means,  that  some  min- 
isters in  Edinbro'  said  this  and  that,  and  they  seem  tae  think  their 
mind  must  be  aye  the  mind  o'  Christ ;  as  far  as  I  can  see  what 
they're  wanting  is,  that  the  State  should  gie  them  their  manses  and 
glebes  and  power,  and  to  pass  an  act  tae  let  the  Kirk  do  iiliatever  she 
pleases, 

D.  I  must  confess,  Alexander,  that  I  think  you  are  wrong  in 
regard  to  spiritual  independence  ;  the  Church  of  Scotland  should 
be  every  bit  as  free  as  a  Voluntary  Church. 

S.  I  canna  see  hoo  it's  possible  as  lang  as  there's  ony  acts  o' 
Parliament  aboot  her.  I'll  tell  you  in  ae  word  my  mind  on't.  I 
hired  a  servant  on  Friday  last,  and  I  made  a  bargain  with  him, 
that  in  winter  he  was  to  thrash  sae  mony  hours  in  the  day  ;  he 
agreed  to  this,  and  I  hae  the  bargain  in  my  pouch ;  noo  maybe 
some  day  when  he's  thrashing,  some  o'  thae  tramping  chiels  will 
come  smoking  their  pipes  aboot  the  barn-yard  and  say,  "  Ye're  a 
poor  slave,  thrashin  awa  there  instead  o'  walking  aboot  the  kintra 
and  enjoying  your  freedom  like  us  ;  "  noo  I  kenna  what  the  lad 
might  say ;  as  he  is  no  wanting  in  gumption,  maybe  it  might  be 
this,  "  Lads  !  I  was  ance  independent  like  you,  but  I  had  nae 
clothes  and  nae  meat,  and  was  aboot  tae  wander  frae  place  tae 
place  tae  mak  a  fend,  but  o'  mg  ain  free  consent,  I  made  a  bargain 
wi'  the  farmer  to  do  a  particular  work  ilka  day,  and  1  am  indepen- 
dent nae  langer  except  to  keep  my  bargain  ;  for  I  bound  mysel   by 

A   A  2 


356  APPENDIX. 

it,  and  if  this  be  slavery,  I  •would  advise  yon  tramping  cliiels  tae 
be  slaves  as  fast  as  ye  can !  "  This  would  be  speaking  like  a  man 
of  sense,  hut  maybe  his  acquaintance  might  put  clavers  into  his 
head,  and  he  might  come  to  me  and  say,  "I'll  no  thrash  in  the 
barn  ony  mair."  "  What  for  ?  "  quo  I.  *'  Because,"  says  he, 
"  I'm  no  mdependent  !  I  canna  do  what  I  like  !  "  "I  ken  that," 
says  I,  "  but  it  was  yoursel  agreed  to  the  bargain."  "It's  a  bad 
ane,"  says  he.  "  Bad  or  gude,"  says  I,  "  %,  bargain's  a  bargain, 
and  ye  maun  keep  it  or  loe  my  service."  What  would  you  think 
o'  him  if  he  would  say,  "  I'll  no  lee  your  service,  I'll  eat  your 
bread,  but  I'll  no  do  your  wark  !  "  And  this  just  explains  the 
sang  aboot  the  spiritual  independence  o'  the  Kirk  ;  the  fient  the 
bait  do  the  Ceevil  Coorts  do,  but  explain  the  bargain  and  niak  the 
Kirk  do  its  wark,  or  (jnng  oot  the  house ;  and  naething  else  does  the 
Kirk  do  than  say,  "  /'//  neither  do  the  tune  or  tither." 

D.  But  granting,  Saunders,  for  the  present,  that  the  Civil  Courts 
have  the  power  of  interpretiiuj  the  bargain,  is  it  not  clear  that  the 
bargain,  as  they  have  interpreted,  is  such  as  no  Church  of  Christ 
can  accept  of?  They  tell  you  that  every  presentee  presented  by  a 
patron  must  be  taken  on  trials,  and  no  objections  can  be  made 
against  him  except  against  his  literature,  his  life,  or  his  doctrines ; 
that  if  these  objections  are  not  agreed  to  by  the  presbytery,  they 
are  bound  to  induct  him,  although  the  people  should  be  against 
him  ;  they  have  declared  that  a  minister  deposed  for  drunkenness 
must  still  keep  his  manse  and  his  glebe,  and  be  a  minister  of  the 
Chui'ch  of  Scotland. 

IT;//.  Na  ;  ye  canna  keep  a  man  noo  out  o'  the  communion 
table  without  asking  leave  o'  the  ceevil  courts. 

S.  I  ken  every  presentee  maun  be  taen  on  trials,  and  that  has 
aye  been  the  case  since  I  mind.  I  ken  that  the  law  is  now,  as 
Lord  Brougham  says,  that  ye  can  only  object  on  the  grounds  ye 
speak  o'  ;  but  I  also  ken  that  Sir  James  Graham  has  said,  that  the 
Presbytery  can  try  if  a  man's  siiitohle,  and  cast  him  on  that,  and 
ye  ken  weel  enough  that  Mr.  Sinclair  or  Sir  George  got  a  bill 
agreed  to  by  the  government,  gien  power  to  the  people  to  mak 
a'  Iciiuls  o'  ohjectioiis  that  could  come  into  their  head,  and  gien  ' 
power  to  the  Presbytery  tae  reject  the  man  if  the  objections  uere ' 
(jude :  or  even  if  they  werna  gude,  yet  if  they  ihocht  tlieij  would 
staun  in  the  way  o'  his  beinij  useful  in  the  parish  :  and  the  kirk 
rejected  it !  And  a  grand  bargain  it  was  !  and  they  tell  me  wt 
could  jet  it  lift  if  the  Kirk  wjuld  tak  it. 

D.    The  Kirk  will  never  tiikj  it. 

J.    They  are  surely  ill  tae  jilease  ;   what's  wrang  aboot  it  ? 


APPENDIX.  357 

T).  Because  tliougb  the  Church  has  Hberty  to  reject  at  all  times 
when  they  do  not  thhik  a  presentee  suitable,  yet  when  they  do 
think  him  suitable,  it  gives  the  Church  the  power  to  admit,  though 
the  people  should  be  against  him. 

S.  And  mair  power  than  this  we  never  had  as  a  Kirk,  mair  than 
this  we'll  never  get,  mair  than  this  we  should  na  get ;  for  mony  a 
man  may  suit  a  place  though  the  folk  at  first  dinna  like  him  ;  and 
it  will  be  an  awful  responsibility  for  them  wha  would  put  down 
the  kirk  "wi'  sic  muckle  liberty. 

D.  I  think  acceptableness  absolutely  necessary  for  the  forming 
of  the  pastoral  relation. 

S.  I  think  acceptableness  a  great  blessing,  ane  that  pres- 
byteries and  pawtrons  should  luik  weel  to,  for  it  maks  things  work 
grand  and  smooth  when  a'  are  pleased.  But  I'm  no  sae  sure  that 
it's  essential,  though  beneficial.  For  gif  it  be  sae  tae  the  making 
o'  this  relation  at  first,  it's  surely  essential  tae  it^  keepan  up  ! 

D.  No.  The  marriage  relation  is  not  formed  without  accepta- 
bleness, but  this  is  not  necessary  for  keeping  it  up. 

S.  I  differ  frae  ye.  The  marriage  relation  is  formed  when 
folk  are  married  whether  they're  pleased  wi'  ane  anither  or  no. 
But  I  again  say,  that  if  a  minister  when  he's  no  kent,  when  he 
has  only  been  in  the  parish  ance  or  twice,  preached  twa  or  three 
sermons,  if  he  canna  wi'oot  sin  be  placed  ower  a  parish  whaur 
he  is  no  acceptable  (though  may  be  they  will  love  him  dearly  in 
a  wi',  whan  they  ken  him),  surely  he  canna  wi'oot  far  greater  sin 
be  keeped  ower  the  parish,  when  after  hearing  him  for  years  and 
kennan  him  weel,  they  come  tae  despise  or  maybe  tae  hate  him  ! 
Ye  maun  just  tak  the  American  way  o't,  a  man  by  the  sax  months. 

Will.  But  what  say  ye  aboot  lettin  drunken  ministers  into  the 
kirk  and  no  having  the  power  to  keep  out  bad  communicants  ? 

S.  I  say  that  the  ceevil  coorts  never  said  that  the  church 
couldna  put  out  drunken  ministers,  but  it  said  that  courts  ivi'  the 
Chapel  ministers  had  nae  lerfal  power  to  try  or  depose  a  minister. 

J.  Nae  mair  than  Will  there  has  power  to  try  a  man  for 
murder. 

S.  And  as  to  keeping  out  bad  communicants,  I  solemnly  tell 
ye  that  I  would  not  stay  in  the  Kirk  if  she  had  not  that  power, 
but  I  am  weel  informed  that  that  power  has  ne'er  been  inter- 
fered wi'. 

Will.  And  hoo  do  ye  get  quit  of  all  thae  stramashes  aboot 
Strathbogie  and  Auchterarder  ? 

S.  That's  beginning  anither  lang  story,  but  ae  thing  is  clear  to 
my  mind,  that  all  the  mischief  in  these  parishes,  and  it's  no  little, 


3S8  APPENDIX. 

has  just  come  frae  the  Kirk  driving  its  veto  law  throngb  tliicl:  and 
thin.  But  i'rti  no  (jaun  tae  defend  a'  the  Ceecil  Coorts  did,  ur  a'  the 
Kirk  Coortsdid;  in  some  thini/s,  am  thiiikintf,  theij  re baith  uiami.  But 
I  ken  a'  was  quiet  till  that  veto  was  tried — that  every  dispute  has 
been  aboot  it.  And  I  canna  think  but  thae  presbyteries  in  the 
North  luicht  hae  made  things  pleesenter  tae  if  they  had  liked. 
Surely  some  o'  thae  fausohious  chiels  warna  "  suitable  ;  "  maybe 
some  o'  thae  lauschious  folk  warna  verrie  eas)'  pleased. 

J.  I'll  tell  you  my  way  o"t,  but  I  may  be  wrang.  The  Kirk 
said  to  the  State,  Gie  us  manses,  glebes,  and  pay,  and  we'l  teach 
the  folk  religion.  What  religion  will  ye  teach  ?  says  the  State. 
The  Confession  of  Faith,  says  the  Kirk.  Done,  says  the  State. 
But  how  will  ye  place  ministers  ?  We  would  like  the  people  to 
elect  them,  says  the  Kirk.  It  canna  be,  says  the  State  ;  gang  awa 
wi'  ye.  Bide  a  wee,  says  the  Kirk  ;  will  ye  mak  an  oflfer  ?  I 
wuU,  says  the  State  ;  it's  this,  Ye  may  lishence  the  men  and  see 
them  fit  for  duty,  and  let  the  patron  choose  wha's  to  be  minister, 
for  he  has  gien  a  gran  glebe,  manse,  and  stipend  for  the  gude  o' 
the  parish.  And  can  the  people  no  object  ?  says  the  Kirk.  Ou 
ay,  says  the  State,  they  may  ;  and  if  their  objections  are  gude  let 
the  presentee  be  rejected  by  the  presbytery  ;  and  if  they  are  no 
gude  let  him  be  put  in  ;  and  if  the  people  are  no  pleased,  let  them 
bigg  a  Kirk  and  Manse  for  themselves.  Done,  says  the  Kirk. 
We'l  tak  a  note  o'  the  bargain,  says  the  State.  And  for  mony  a 
year  and  day — 130  years  since  the  last  bargain — they  worked 
brawly  thegither;  but  in  1834  the  Kirk  rued  and  thocht  the 
bargain  no  a  gude  ane,  especially  as  she  had  aye  been  braggiu'  to 
the  Voluntaries  that  she  was  as  free  as  them,  and  sae  she  passed 
the  Veto  law — a  kind  o'  sly  way  o'  jinking  the  State.  Weel,  a 
minister  gets  his  presentation  and  comes  to  the  Presbytery  and 
axes  them  to  try  him  and  see  if  he  was  fit  for  the  parish.  N.i, 
na,  says  the  Presbytery,  lad,  thae  days  are  a'  by:  gang  av/a  to 
the  folk  and  see  what  they  think  o'  ye.  It's  no  fair,  says  the  lad, 
but  I'll  try.  So  ho  gangs  and  preaches  to  them,  and  they  a'  glower 
at  him,  for  the're  desperate  keen  for  anither  man  ;  and  what  caie 
they  for  the  patron  ?  No  a  dockan.  So  they  cock  their  heads  at 
him,  and  tell  him  tae  be  atf  tae  his  mither  if  he  likes.  No  sae 
fast,  says  the  lad.  So  he  comes  to  the  Presbytery  and  says,  that 
they  maun  see  if  he  is  tit  for  the  place.  What  says  the  folk  to  ye, 
quo  the  Presbytery  ?  They  say  naught,  says  the  lad,  but  jist  ta 
gang  hame  ;  the'l  no  tell  me  for  what.  Weel,  says  the  Presby- 
tery, liame  ye  maun  gang,  and  tak  your  presentation  in  your 
pouch.     It's  a  pity,  says  the  lad,  that  the  patron  payed  sae  mucklo 


APPENDIX.  .  350 

for't,  for  it  seems  little  worth  ;  but  I  think  ye  hae  chefited  me  ont 
o'  my  place.  So  he  gangs  hame  and  tells  the  pawtron  boo  they 
steekit  the  door  on  him,  and  wadna  speir  a  question  at  him. 
The  patron  says,  quo  he,  baith  o'  us  are  clean  cheated ;  yon  oot 
o'  your  place,  and  me  oot  o'  my  richt  o'  presentin'  you  till't,  and 
they  are  gaun  against  law  ;  for  the  law  says  that  them,  and  no 
the  folk,  are  tae  try  ye,  and  see  if  ye  are  fit  for  the  place, — gang 
doon  ta  the  Presbytery  \n'  my  compliments,  and  tell  them  that. 
So  he  gangs  doon,  and  they  flee  on  him  and  toll  him  the  law  is 
wi'  lliem.  We'l  see  that,  says  the  pawtron  ;  so  he  and  the  lad 
gang  ta  the  court  o'  session,  and  the  Kirk  gangs  tae,  and  spier  at 
the  judges  what's  the  law  ?  The  judges  sae  that  the  law  is  sae 
and  sae,  that  the  pawtron  and  lad  are  richt.  Auld  Gowks  !  says 
the  Kirk,  they  are  wrang.  Then,  says  the  pawtron,  Ave'll  try  the 
Lords.  So  the  Lords  say  that  the  Kirk's  wrang,  and  that  the  duel's 
richt.  We  are  no  heedin',  says  the  Kirk  ;  so  they  tell  the  lad  ta 
gang  aboot  his  business,  and  gif  the  Lords  like  they  may  gie  him 
the  stipends  ;  but  if  he  gies  mair  gab,  they'l  tak  his  lishence  fraj 
him.  But  they  say,  says  the  lad,  they  canna  gie  me  the  stipends  ti  1 
ye  open  the  door  and  ordain  me.  We'll  ne'er  do  that,  says  the  Kirk. 
I  ken,  says  the  pawtron,  that  nae  power  on  yirth  can  mak  ye  do 
that,  but  certies  ye  maun  gie  a  compensation  for  the  injury  ye 
hae  done  me  and  the  lad,  and  surely  ye'll  say  ihaVs  ceevil  effects ! 

D.  After  all  I  have  said,  and  after  all  you  have  heard  from  the 
various  deputations,  I  see  it  would  be  useless  to  carry  on  this  dis- 
cussion longer, — my  mind  is  made  up.  I  grieve  to  think  it,  but  I 
fear  it  will  be  my  imperative  duty  to  leave  the  church  establish- 
ment, to  go  out  with  those  noble  men,  who  are  making  so  many 
sacrifices  for  conscience  sake,  and  to  give  a  Fi'ee  Presbyterian 
Church  for  Scotland. 

J.  As  tae  what  they'l  t/ie  tae  Scotland,  that's  no  ken't  yet ;  but 
I  see  they're  trying  tae  take  a  gude  Establishment  frae  her, — and 
whatna  sacrifices  are  they  makin'  ? 

Will.  Sacrifices  !  Castin'  their  manses,  glebes,  stipends,  and 
a'  tae  the  winds. 

J.  I  am  tell't  they  are  gey  an'  gleg  aboot  the  siller,  and  desperat 
keen  tae  get  it ;  they  say  they  are  tae  hae  a  central  fund  in  Edin- 
bro,  and  tae  gie  a'  the  ministers  that  gang  oot  wi'  them  £100  a  year, 
besides  the  tae  half  o'  their  ain  winnings.  It'll  be  a  gran  lift  to 
some  o'  they  Cod  Sakker  chiels. 

D.    Quoad  Sacra  ! 

S.  A  bunder  pound  a  year  I  they'll  ne'er  maun  tae  keep  an 
Establishment  for  Scotland. 


36o  APPEXD/X. 

I).  I  am  not  afrai  1  vi  it  ;  the  rich  will  give,  the  poor  *vill  give  ; 
for  the  oltl  spirit  is  up;  the  Blue  Banner  is  abroad,  and  the  whole 
world  will  see  what  Scotland  can  do. 

J.    I  would  rather  see't  than  hear  tell  o't. 

Will.  See  auld  Mr.  Smith  in  this  verra  parish,  what  he  has 
gien. 

J.  Aye;  for  the  holy's  desparat  keen  in  the  business;  but 
think  ye  will  his  son  Jock  gie  when  he's  dead  an  gane  ?  Na  !  I 
raind  ance  l^r.  Chaumers  comin'  here,  and  a  gay  thick  way  he  has 
in  his  talk,  tho'  folk  that  understau'  him  say  he's  gran  ; — it  was  at 
the  church  extension  time,  and  he  and  them  that  were  wi'  him 
proved  hoo  the  Establishment,  wi'  a'  that  it  had,  and  wi'  the 
thoosands  that  it  was  liftin'  every  year  (and  I'm  thinkin'  they  got 
£300,000),  and  wi'  the  help  the  Dissenters  was  gieing  them,  they 
couldna  maun  tae  supply  gospel  ordinances  tae  the  kiutra  ;  and 
think  ye  will  they  maun't  noo  withoot  an  establishment,  wi'  a' 
their  bawbee  collections  ?  If  they  do,  I  can  only  say  there 
hae  been  a  hantle  o'  braw  speeches  cast  away  ;  and  if  they  dinna, 
it's  no  them  but  puir  workin'  men  like  me,  that  will  be  the  sufferers  ; 
for  what  care  I  tae  hae  the  election  o'  a  minister,  when  I'm  ower 
puir  to  hae  ane  at  a'  ? 

D.  Stay  in  then,  and  bring  back  the  reign  of  moderatism  and 
of  darkness,  and  see  our  great  schemes,  the  glory  of  the  Church, 
destroyed,  and  behold  our  national  Zion  become  a  desolation,  a 
hissing,  and  a  proverb.  When  she  has  deserted  her  great  Head,  it 
is  time  for  me  to  leave  her. 

Will.  An'  for  me  tae  ! 

S.  And  gif  a'  ye  say  was  true,  or  had  ae  particle  o'  truth  in't,  it 
would  be  time  for  us  a'  tae  gang ;  but  as  the  apostle  says,  "  to  him 
that  thinketh  it  is  unclean,  to  him  it  is  unclean ;  but  let  such  man 
be  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind  :  let  us  not  judge  one  another, 
for  we  must  all  stand  before  the  judgment  seat  of  Christ."  Let 
me  speak  freely  tae  ye,  Mr.  Brown,  before  we  part, — ye  hae  said 
mony  things  that  grieves  my  heart.  As  tae  the  reign  o'  moderatism, 
nae  doubt  Scotland  was  ance  what  she's  no  noo.  I  mind  mysel 
a  time  when  there  was  nae  sic  faithlu'  preachin'  in  the  parish  kirks 
as  noo  ;  but  God  in  His  mercy, — for  tae  Him,  and  no  tae  this  set  o' 
men  or  that,  be  the  praise — breathed  by  His  Spirit  on  this  valley  of 
dry  bones ;  and  I  noo  ken  mony  men  whom  ye  ca'  moderates,  be- 
cause they're  no  convocationists,  that  are  God-fearing,  zealous 
men,  kent  and  loved  in  their  ain  parishes,  tho'  they're  may  be  no 
in  the  mouth  o'  the  public  ;  and  I  ken  mony  that  are  foremost 
eneuch  in   this  steer,   that  in  my  opinion,  hae   verra  little  o'  the 


APPENDIX.  361 

meekness  and  gentleness  0'  Christ.  Ye  speak  0'  our  schemes,  and 
ye  may  weel  ca'  them  the  glory  o'  the  Ku'k  ;  but  do  these  no  prove 
jist  what  I  say  ?  Wha  got  up  the  scheme  for  the  Hindoos  ?  Dr. 
Inglis,  the  head  o'  the  Moderates.  Wha  got  up  the  education 
scheme  for  the  Hielands  ?  Principal  Baird,  a  Moderate.  Wha  was 
ower  the  Colonial  Church  scheme  in  Glasgow  ?  Principal  M'Farlan, 
a  Moderate.  Dr.  Chaumers,  a  gude  man,  and  a  man  I  lo'e,  tho'  I 
think  he's  wrang,  was  ower  the  ither  ane. 

J.  He's  the  only  ane  0'  them  a'  that  rued,  for  he's  for  puttin' 
down  the  kirk  noo  a'  thegither. 

S.  Whist  John.  As  tae  the  Kirk  deserting  its  great  Head,  God 
forbid  that  that  should  be  true  !  I  deny  it,  and  am  ashamed  that 
men  that  should  ken  better  should  put  such  disturbing  thoughts 
into  the  minds  o'  weak  Christians.  I  hae  heard  the  sang  afore 
noo, — the  M'Millans  hae  keepit  it  up  for  100  years, — and  it  was 
aye  their  sough  at  the  redding  o'  the  marches  atween  them  and 
the  Establishment  on  the  Monday  o'  their  sacrament ;  the  Anld 
Lights  took  up  the  same  sang  when  they  left  the  Kirk  ;  it's  no  new 
tae  my  lugs,  so  it'll  no  mak  me  leave  the  Kirk.  I'll  bide  in  her  1 
Her  verra  dust  to  me  is  dear  !  I  was  born  agin  within  her 
walls;  sae  were  some  o'  my  bonny  bairns  that  are  sleeping  outside 
o'  them.  I  hae  been  strengthened  and  comforted  during  my 
pilgrimage  wi'  her  ordinances,  and  I'll  no  break  up  her  Communion 
table  as  lang  as  I  hae  power — and  it  has  ne'er  been  taken  fae 
me  yet — tae  keep  awa  the  ungodly  and  the  profane ;  and  as  lang 
as  Christ  is  preach'd  within  her  walls,  I'll  stay  tae  help  tae  reform 
her,  tae  help  tae  purify  her,  and  tae  pray  as  lang  as  breath  is  in 
my  body,  for  her  peace  and  prosperity. 

J.  I'll  stay  tae,  for  I  canna  get  a  better  Kirk  nor  our  ain ;  the 
Dissenters  are  gude  folk,  but  I'm  no  a  Voluntary. 

Will.  Gang  tae  the  M'Millans  if  there's  nae  free  Kirk  in  the 
parish ;  they  are  the  best  representatives  0'  our  covenanting 
ancestors. 

J.  The  M'Millans  !  It's  no  will  I  gang  into  their  Kirk,  but  will 
they  let  me  in  ?  Wi'  reverence  be  it  spoken,  it's  easier  tae  get  into 
the  Kingdom  o'  Grace  than  tae  get  intae  their  Kirk ;  wi'  a  baud  0' 
the  covenant  0'  grace  by  faith,  I  can  enter  that  Kingdom ;  but 
this  is  nae  pass  at  their  door.  I  maun  hae  the  Solemn  League  and 
Covenant,  and  twa  or  three  mair,  or  be  keepit  oot  as  a  heathen 
and  a  publican  !  It's  black  popery,  putting  the  traditions  0'  our 
faithers  on  a  footin'  wi'  the  Word  0'  God..  As  tae  your  wooden 
Kirks,  nane  o'  them  for  me  !  they'l  be  desparat  cauld  in  winter, 
and  hett  in  simmer, — I'll  stick  by  the   auld  stane  and  lime,  and 


362  APPENDIX. 

I'm  mistaen  if  it'll  no  stan'  a  hantle  deal  langer  than  a'  your  tim- 
ber bifigins  ! 

S.  Let  us  no  pairt  wi'  "bitterness,  wrath,  clamour,  and  evil 
speaking."  Let  us  rather  "  Strive  to  keep  the  unity  of  the  Spirit 
in  the  bond  of  Peace."  Though  we  differ  as  tae  the  meam,  we  a' 
agree  J  hope  as  tae  ends — we  a'  seek,  if  Christian  men,  the  gude  o' 
the  Church  o'  Christ  in  Scotland,  and  desire  the  glory  of  its  great 
Head.  As  tae  the  best  toay  o'  hrinrfimf  this  abnot  I  may  be  wrang, 
and  sae  may  ye — for  neither  o'  us  are  infallible,  but  we  may  a'  be 
upright — we  may  a'  sincerely  desire  tae  please  God  ;  and  if  He 
has  promised  tae  bless  such,  and  tae  gie  them  licht,  and  tae 
"  accept  their  willing  mind,"  let  us  not  be  accusing  and  judging 
ane  anither,  casting  the  blame  on  a  bad  conscience  rather  than  on 
a  waik  understanding  or  want  o'  opportunity  o'  kennan  the  truth. 
We  should  tak'  care  thai  in  striviii'  tae  keep  others  frae  caateiC  aff 
Christ  as  their  Head,  ice  dinna  cast  Hint  aff  oursels  by  disobey iiiff 
His  commands.  It's  a  great  comfort  tae  think  that  the  Lord 
reigns,  and  that  wi'  us,  or  in  spite  o'  us,  He  wull  advance  his  ain 
cause.  Let  the  earth  be  glad !  It  was  a  gude  sayan  o'  auld  Mr. 
Guthrie,  '*  in  thinys  essential,  unity  ;  in  thinyx  doobtfn  ,  liberty  ;  and 
in  a'  things,  charity."  Let  us  thus  walk,  and  0  !  speed  the  time 
when  we  shall  meet  thogither  in  the  general  assembly  above  ; 
when  "  Judah  sball  no  more  vex  Ephraim,  nor  Ephraim  Judah." 
Friends  and  neighbours,  shake  hands  ! 

D.  With  all  my  heart, — I  respond  to  5'our  sentiments,  and  I 
know  you  to  be  good  and  honest.  I  pray  that  we  may  all  "  be 
sincere,  and  without  offence  at  his  coming." 

Will.  There's  my  haun  tae  ye.  We  hae  been  auld  ncebours 
and  fellow-communicants,  and  it's  right  we  shouldna  forget  "  who 
we  are,  and  whom  we  serve."     But  yet  I  wad  like  a  pure  Kirk. 

J.  Mony  a  splore  you  and  me  hae  had  ;  but  we  can  shake  hands 
yet.  Lang  may  it  be  sae !  As  tae  a  pure  Kirk,  ye'U  mind,  may- 
be, what  the  great  and  gude  Mr.  Newton  remarked  till  a  leddy 
that  ance  said  what  ye  say  noo.  "  We'll  ne'er,  my  friend,"  said 
he,  "  get  a  pure  Kirk,  till  we  enter  the  ane  above  ;  and  ao  thing  is 
certain,  that  if  there  n-as  ane  on  yirth,  it  wad  be  pure  nae  langer, 
if  you  and  me  entered  it!  " — Gude  day  wi'  ye  a'!  (They  shake 
bauds  and  part,  and  sae  ended  the  "Crack  aboot  the  Kirk.") 

END    OF    VOL.    I. 


MEMOIR    OF 

NORMAN    MACLEOD,  D.D. 


VOLUME     II, 


*  Perish  •  policy*  and  CTinning', 
Perish  all  that  fears  the  light, 
"VNTiether  losing,  whether  viTiining, 
'  Trust  in  God  and  do  the  right.' 

**  Some  wiU  hate  thee,  some  ■will  love  thee^ 

Some  will  flatter,  some  will  slight ; 

Cease  from  man,  and  look  ahove  thee, 

♦  Trust  in  God  and  do  the  right.'" 


"  So  long  as  I  have  a  good  conscience  towards  God,  and  have  His  sun  to 
shine  on  me,  and  can  hear  the  birds  singing,  I  can  walk  across  the  earth  with 
a  joyful  and  free  heart.  Let  them  call  me  '  hroad.'  I  desire  to  be  broad  as 
the  charity  of  Almighty  God,  who  maketh  His  sun  to  shine  on  the  evil  and 
the  good  :  who  hateth  no  man,  and  who  loveth  the  poorest  Hindoo  more  than 
all  their  committees  or  all  their  Churches.  But  while  I  long  for  that  breadth 
of  charity,  I  desire  to  be  narrow — narrow  as  God's  righteousness,  which  as  a 
sharp  sword  can  separate  between  eternal  right  and  eternal  wrong.  ' — From 
hii  last  Speech, 


CHAPTEE  XIII. 

1851—1856. 

NOEMAN  MACLEOD  was  inducted  minister  of 
the  Barony  parish,  Glasgow,  in  July,  1851 ; 
and  on  the  11th  of  August  in  the  same  year  was 
married  to  Catherine  Ann  Mackintosh,  daughter  of 
the  late  William  Mackintosh,  Esq.,  of  Geddes,  and 
sister  of  his  dearest  friend,  John  Mackintosh. 

He  first  lived  in  Woodlands  Terrace,  then  at  the 
western  extremity  of  the  city.  The  house  stood 
high,  and  commanded  a  wide  prospect  from  its  upper 
windows.  The  valley  of  the  Clyde  lay  in  front,  and 
over  the  intervening  roofs  and  chimney-stacks  his 
eye  rested  with  delight  on  the  taper  masts  of  ships 
crowded  aloug  the  quays.  Farther  away,  and  beyond 
the  smoke  of  the  city,  rose  the  range  of  the  Cathkin 
Hills,  and  Hurlet  Neb,  and  the  'Braes  of  Gleniffer,' 
their  slopes  flecked  by  sun  and  shadow.  From  the 
"back  windows  there  was  a  glorious  view  of  the  familiar 
steeps  of  Campsie  Fell.  The  glow  of  sunrise  or  of 
sunset  on  these  steeps  was  such  a  delight  to  him  that 
often,  when  he  had  guests,  he  made  them  follow  him 
up-stairs,  to  share  his  own  enjoyment  of  the  scene. 

The  stir  and  bustle  of   the   commercial  capital   of 

VOL.    II  B 


2  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Scotland  were  thoroughly  congenial  to  him.  He 
loved  Glasgow,  and  rejoiced  in  the  practical  sense, 
the  enterprise,  and  generosity  which  characterised  its 
kindly  citizens.  The  very  noise  of  its  busy  streets 
was  pleasant  to  his  ears.  His  friends  remember 
how  he  used  to  describe  himself  sitting  in  his  study, 
in  the  quiet  of  the  winter  morning,  and  knowing 
that  six  o'clock  had  struck  by  hearing,  far  down 
below  him  in  the  Yalley  of  the  Clyde,  the  thud  of  a 
great  steam-hammer,  to  which  a  thousand  hammers, 
ringing  on  a  thousand  anvils,  at  once  replied,  telling 
that  the  city  had  awakened  to  another  day  of  labour. 
It  was  his  habit  to  rise  very  early,  and,  after  giving 
the  first  hours  to  devotion,  he  wrote  or  studied  till 
breakfast  time.  The  forenoon  was  chiefly  employed 
receiving  persons  calling  on  business  of  every  con- 
ceivable description,  and  the  afternoon  was  occupied 
with  parochial  visitation,  and  other  public  duties. 
When  it  was  possible,  he  reserved  an  hour  during 
the  evening  for  the  enjoyment  of  music  or  for 
reading  aloud.  Every  Saturday  he  took  the  only 
walk  of  the  week  which  had  no  object  but  enjoyment. 
The  first  part  of  this  walk  usually  brought  him  to 
John  Macleod  Campbell's  house,  which  was  two  miles 
out  of  town,  and,  with  him  as  his  companion,  it  was 
continued  into  the  country.  But  in  whatever  direc- 
tion he  went  the  day  seldom  ended  without  his  visiting 
the  Broomielaw,  where,  for  a  while,  he  would  wander 
with  delight  among  the  ships  and  sailors,  criticising 
hulls  and  rigging,  and  looking  with  boyish  wonder 
at  the  strange  cargoes  that  were  being  discharged 
from  the  foreign  traders. 


1851— 1856.  3 

Pew  contrasts  can  be  greater  than  that  presented  lo 
tlic  stranger,  who,  after  gazing  at  the  hoary  magniti- 
conce  of  Glasgow  Cathedral — the  very  embodiment  of 
the  spirit  of  reverence  and  worshij) — looks  across  the 
street  at  the  plain  sqnare  pile  of  the  Barony  Church. 
Yet,  any  one  wdio  knows  the  work  with  the  recollec- 
tion of  which  that  niij)retending  edifice  is  associated, 
will  be  disposed  to  pardon  its  ngliness  in  considera- 
tion of  a  certain  sacred  interest  clinging  to  its  walls. 
When  he  was  inducted  to  the  Barony,  I^orman 
Macleod  at  once  recognised  his  position  as  uiinister, 
not  only  of  the  congregation  whifjh  worshipjDed  there, 
but  oT  the  enormous  parish  (embracing  at  that  time 
87,000  souls,  and  rapidly  increasing)  of  which  this 
was  the  Parish  Church.  There  were  of  course  many 
other  churches  in  the  parish ;  it  contained  the  usual 
proportion  of  dissenting  congregations,  in  addition  to 
some  chapels  connected  with  the  Church  of  Scotland. 
These,  nevertheless,  were  not  only  inadequate  to  the 
requirements  of  the  poj^ulation,  but  were  unequally 
distributed,  so  that  many  densely- inhabited  districts 
were  left  unprovided  with  either  Church  or  School. 
There  were  also,  at  a  depth  reached  by  no  agency 
then  existing,  those  '  lapsed  classes '  which  form 
in  all  large  cities  the  mighty  problem  of  Christian 
philanthropy. 

Every  Sunday  he  preached  to  crowds  that  filled 
every  seat  and  passage ;  yet  by  far  the  greater  pro- 
portion of  those  actually  connected  with  his  church 
were  not  rich.  They  gave  him,  however,  from  the 
first,  such  hearty  support  in  the  furtherance  of  all  his 
measures  for  the  good  of  the  parish  at  large,  that,  in 

B  2 


4  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

«5pite  of  its  comparative  poyerty,  few,  if  any,   of  the 
congregations  in  the  Church  accomplished  so  mucli. 

Tlie  Barony  aftorded  a  noble  field  for  the  develop- 
ment of  his  convictions  as  to  the  duties  of  the 
Christian  congregation  in  reference  to  the  manifold 
wants  of  society.  When  he  entered  on  his  new  charge 
his  mind  was  full  of  the  subject,  and  he  gave  emphatic 
utterance,  both  in  siDceches  and  in  magazine  articles, 
to  the  views  he  was  about  to  carry  into  practical 
effect : — 

"  A  Christian  congregation  is  a  body  of  Cliristianp  Avho 
are  associated  not  merely  to  receive  instruction  from  a 
minister,  or  to  unite  in  public  worship,  but  also  '  to  consider 
one  another,  and  to  provoke  to  love  and  good  works,'  and  as 
a  society  to  do  'good  unto  all  as  they  have  opportunity.' 

"...  It  is  a  body.  Its  members  are  parts  of  an 
organized  Avhole.  The  Lord's  supper  is  the  grand  symbol 
of  this  unity.  Other  ends  are  unquestionably  intended  to 
be  accomplished  by  this  ordinance,  but  it  is  certainly  de- 
signed to  express  this  idea  of  imity.   .   .   . 

"  We  are  profoundly  convinced  that, — apart  from,  or 
in  addition  to,  the  immense  power  of  the  Christian  life 
operating  in  and  through  individuals,  and  innumerable 
separate  and  isolated  channels, — the  society  of  the  Chris- 
tian Church  acting  through  its  distinct  organizations  or 
congregations,  like  an  army  acting  through  its  different 
regiments,  is  the  grand  social  system  which  C'lirist  lins 
ordained,  not  only  for  the  conversion  of  sinners  and  tlie 
edification  of  saints,  but  also  for  advancing  all  that  pertains 
to  the  well-being  of  humanity.  We  hold  that  the  Christian 
congregation,  if  constructed  and  worked  according  to  the 
intention  of  its  designer,  contains  in  itself  individually,  or 
in  conjunction  with  other  congregations,  material,  moral, 
intellectual,  active,  and  social  forces  which,  when  wisely 
aj)plied  to  God's  work  on  earth,  are  the  best  and  most 
efficient  means  for  doing  it. 

"...   But  is   this   possible  in  a  condition   of   society 


1851 — 1856.  5 

constituted  as  ours  now  is  ?  Is  the  conception  not  a  fond 
imagination,  or,  if  attempted  to  be  carried  out,  would  it  not 
lead  to  such  extravagances  and  fanatical  disorders,  as  from 
time  to  time  have  characterised  minor  sects  which,  in 
seeking  to  be  perfect  Churches,  have  sunk  down  to  be 
perfect  nuisances  ?  It  may  be  said,  only  look  at  the 
elements  you  have  to  work  upon  !  Look  at  that  farmer, 
or  this  shopkeeper.  Study  that  servant,  or  this  master. 
Enter  the  houses  of  those  parishioners,  from  the  labourer 
to  the  laird.  Is  there  the  intelligence,  the  principle,  the 
common  sense — any  one  element  which  would  combine 
those  members  into  a  body  for  any  high  or  holy  end  ? 
They  love  one  another  !  They  help  to  convert  the  world  ! 
Would  it  were  so — but  it  is  impracticable  ! " 

To  these  difficulties  he  replied  by  indicating  what, 
at  all  events,  must  be  recognised  as  the  will  of  Christ, 
in  reference  to  Christian  duty  ;  and  then  showed  how 
much  latent  power  there  is  in  every  congregation  which 
only  requires  sufficient  occasion  for  its  display : — 

"  Grace  Darling,  had  she  been  known  only  as  a  sitter 
or  a  pewholder  in  a  congregation,  might  have  been  deemed 
unfit  for  any  work  requiring  courage  or  self-sacrifice.  But 
these  noble  qualities  were  all  the  while  there.  In  like 
manner  we  have  seen  among  our  working  classes,  a  man 
excited  by  some  religious  enthusiast  or  fanatical  Mor- 
monite,  who,  all  at  once  seemed  inspired  by  new  powers, 
braved  the  sneers  of  companions,  consented  to  be  dipped 
in  the  next  river,  turned  his  small  stock  of  knowledge 
into  immediate  use,  exhorted,  warned,  proselytised  among 
his  neighbours — giving,  in  short,  token  of  a  force  lying  hid 
in  one  who  once  seemed  unfit  for  anything  but  to  work  on 
week-days  and  to  sleep  on  Sabbath-days.  Does  not  the 
Hindu  Fakir,  who  swings  from  a  hook  fixed  in  the  muscles 
of  his  back,  and  every  popish  devotee  who  braves  the 
opinion  of  society  by  going  with  bare  feet  and  in  a  comical 
dress,  demonstrate  what  a  man  can  and  will  do  if  you  can 


6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

only  touch  the  mainspring  of  his  being  ?  It  is  thus  thnt 
tliere  are  in  every  congregation  men  and  ■women  ^vho  ha\e 
in  them  great  powers  of  some  kind,  wliich  have  been  given 
them  by  God,  and  which,  though  lying  dormant,  are  capable 
of  being  brought  out  bj'-  fitting  causes.  Nay,  every  man  is 
enriched  with  some  talent  or  gift,  if  v;e  could  only  discover 
it,  which,  if  educated  and  properly  directed,  is  capjible  of 
enriching  others." 

The  Church  demanded  the  discovery  of  these  gifts, 
the  personal  influence  of  living  Christians  being  the 
only  agency  sufficient  to  meet  the  evils  of  society. 

"  We  want  living  men  !  Not  their  books  or  their 
money  only,  but  themselves.  The  poor  and  needy  ones 
who,  in  this  great  turmoil  of  life,  have  found  no  helper 
among  their  fellows — the  wicked  and  outcast,  Avhose 
hand  is  against  every  man's,  because  they  have  found, 
by  dire  experience  of  the  Avorld's  intense  selfishness, 
that  every  man's  hand  is  against  them — the  prodigal 
and  broken-hearted  children  of  the  human  family,  who 
have  the  bitterest  thoughts  of  God  and  man,  if  they  have 
any  thoughts  at  all  beyond  their  busy  contrivances  how 
to  live  and  indulge  then*  craving  passions — all  these  by 
the  mesmerism  of  the  heart,  and  by  the  light  of  that  gi*eat 
witness,  conscience,  which  God  in  mercy  leaves  as  a  light 
from  heaven  in  the  most  abject  dw^elling  of  earth,  can  to 
some  extent  read  the  living  epistle  of  a  renewed  soul, 
written  in  the  divine  characters  of  the  Holy  Spirit !  They 
can  see  and  feel,  as  they  never  did  anything  else  in  this 
world,  the  love  which  calmly  shines  in  that  eye,  telling  of 
inward  light,  and  peace  possessed,  and  of  a  place  of  rest 
found  and  enjoyed  by  the  weary  heart !  They  can  under- 
stand and  appreciate  the  utter  unselfishness — to  them  a 
thing  hitherto  hardly  dreamt  of — which  prompted  this 
visit  from  a  home  of  comfort  and  refinement  to  an  un- 
known abode  of  squalor  or  disease,  and  whieli  expresses 
itself  in  those  kind  words  and  tender  greetings  that  accom- 
pany their  ministrations." 


1851 — 1856.  7 

But  even  where  there  are  the  desire  and  the  ability 
to  engage  in  such  a  work,  a  wise  organization  is 
required  to  make  them  effective. 

".  .  .  There  is  not  found  in  general  that  wise  and  autho- 
ritative congregational  or  church  direction  and  govern- 
ment, which  could  at  least  suggest,  if  not  assign,  fitting 
work  to  each  member,  and  a  fitting  member  for  each  work. 
Hence  little  comparatively  is  accomplished.  The  most 
willing  church  member  gazes  over  a  great  city,  and  asks 
in  despair,  '  What  am  I  to  do  here  ? '  And  what  would 
the  bravest  soldiers  accomplish  in  the  day  of  battle,  if  they 
asked  the  same  question  in  vain  ?  What  would  a  thousand 
of  our  best  workmen  do  in  a  large  factory,  if  they  entered 
it  with  willing  hands,  yet  having  no  place  or  work  assigned 
to  them  ?  "  '"' 

"...  The  common  idea  at  present  is  that  the  whole 
function  of  the  Church  is  to  teach  and  preach  the  gospel ; 
while  it  is  left  to  other  organizations,  infidel  ones  they 
may  be,  to  meet  all  the  other  varied  wants  of  our  suffering 
people.  And  what  is  this  but  virtually  to  say  to  them, 
the  Church  of  Christ  has  nothing  to  do  as  a  society  with 
your  bodies,  only  with  your  souls,  and  tliat,  too,  but  in  the 
way  of  teaching  ?  Let  infidels,  then,  give  you  better  houses 
or  better  clothing,  and  seek  to  gratify  your  tastes  and  im- 
prove your  social  state ; — with  all  this,  and  a  thousand 
other  things  needful  for  you  as  men,  we  have  nothing  to 
do.  What  is  this,  too,  but  to  give  these  men  the  impres- 
sion that  Christ  gives  them  truth  merely  on  Sabbath 
through  ministers,  but  that  He  has  nothing  to  do  with 
what  is  given  them  every  day  of  the  week  tln'ough  other 
channels?  Whereas  the  Christian  congregation  or  society 
ought  not  to  consider  as  foreign  to  itself  any  one  thing 
which  its  loving  Head  Jesus  Christ  gives  to  bless  and 
dignify  man,  and  desires  man  to  use  and  enjoy.  We  must 
not  separate  ourselves  from  any  important  interest  of  our 
brethren  of  mankind,  calling    the  one  class  of   blessings 

*  Extracted  from  articles  on  "  What  is  a  Christian  Congregation  f  " 
in  Edinburgh  Christian  Magazine  for  1852. 


8  LIFE  OF  NORM  AN  MACLEOD. 

spiritual,  and  accepting  these  as  the  special  trust  of  the 
Christian  Clnirch,  and  callin^^  another  class  temporal,  and 
recognising  thoui  as  a  trust  for  society  given  to  the  unbe- 
lievers. In  so  doing  we  give  Satan  the  advantage  over  us. 
Let  congregations  take  cognizance  of  the  whole  man  and 
his  various  earthly  relationships,  let  them  seek  to  enrich 
him  with  all  Christ  gave  him,  let  them  endeavour  to  meet 
all  his  wants  as  an  active,  social,  intellectuftl,  sentient,  ns 
■well  as  spiritual  being,  so  that  man  shall  know  through  the 
ministrations  of  the  body,  the  Church,  how  its  living  Head 
gives  them  all  things  richly  to  enjoy  !  Every  year  seems 
to  me  to  demand  this  more  and  more  from  the  Christian 
Church.  I  see  no  way  of  meeting  Socialism  but  this.  I 
see  no  efficient  way  of  meeting  Popery  but  this.  Organi- 
zation is  one  stronghold  of  Romanism,  and  self-sacritice  for 
the  sake  of  the  Church  is  another.  Protestantism  cannot 
meet  either  by  dogma  merely,  it  must  meet  both  by  orga- 
nization and  government  with  Christian  liberty,  and  above 
all  by  life."* 

These  views  form  the  key  to  the  general  plan  of 
his  work  in  the  Barony. 

After  having-  personally  visited  the  different  families 
under  his  immediate  charge,  he  commenced  to  organize 
nife  ogencies,  with  the  determination  to  make  the  con- 
gregation the  centre  from  which  he  was  to  work  the 
parish.  He  first  formed  a  large  kii-k-session  of  elders 
and  deacons,t  and  at  once  gave  the  Court,  over  which 

*  Speech  delivered  at  public  meeting  for  Church  Endowment  in 
the  City  Hall,  Glasgow,  January,  1852. 

t  In  the  Presbyterian  Church  the  congregation  is  governed  by  a 
court  consisting  of  the  clergyman  and  a  certain  number  of  the  laity, 
who  are  ordained  as  'elders.'  Norman  Macleod  was  one  of  ihe  tirst 
in  the  Church  of  Scotland  to  revive  the  office  of  deacon,  whose 
duties  chiefly  refer  to  charitable,  financial,  and  other  business  arrange- 
ments. Elders  and  deacons  act  together  in  all  matters  except  those 
purely  spiritual,  worship  and  discipline.  With  these  the  elders  and 
minister  are  alone  legally  competent  to  deal.  The  Kirk-Sessiona 
of  the  Established  Church  are  recognised  '  Courts,'  with  a  legal 
jurisdiction,  and  are  amenable  only  to  the  Presbytery,  Synod,  and 
General  Assembly. 


tSsi — '856.  9 

he  presided  officially,  direct  control  over  all  the 
agencies  he  intended  to  employ.  However  numerous 
might  be  the  various  '  workers,'  male  and  female, 
wlio  took  an  active  part  in  missionary  labour,  all 
of  them  were  under  the  direction  and  superintend- 
ence of  the  kirk-session.  Even  the  names  of  those 
whose  children  were  to  be  baptized,  were  regularly 
submitted  to  this  body.  In  this  manner  he  not 
only  called  forth  the  talents  and  energy  of  indi- 
viduals, but  so  organized  their  work,  under  the  con- 
stitutional government  of  the  Church,  that  it  went  on 
smoothly  and  efficiently,  even  when  he  was  himself 
obliged  to  be  absent  for  a  considerable  period.  He 
believed  that  the  Presbyterian  system,  if  duly  ad- 
ministered, was  admirably  fitted  for  maintaining  tlie 
union  of  individual  energy  with  efficiency  of  govern- 
ment, and  his  experience  amply  confirmed  his  con- 
victions. 

One  leading  feature  in  his  plan  of  operation  was  the 
establishment  of  district  meetings  with  his  people. 
For  this  end,  the  congregation  was  divided  into 
twelve  districts,  according  to  their  place  of  residence, 
to  each  of  which  one  or  more  elders,  with  a  propor- 
tionate number  of  deacons,  were  appointed.  He 
held  a  meeting  once  a  year  in  each  of  these  districts, 
which  all  the  families  connected  with  his  congrega- 
tion, residing  within  it,  were  expected  to  attend. 
The  minister,  accompanied  by  the  elders  and  deacons 
of  the  district,  had  thus  an  opportunity  of  meeting 
old  and  young  in  an  informal  and  friendly  manner. 
Kindly  greetings  were  exchanged,  explanations  made 
as  to  congregational  work,  and  pastoral  advice  given 


ro  LIFE  OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

on  practical  matters.  The  communicants  in  this  way 
not  only  enjoyed  personal  intercourse  with  the  office- 
bearers of  the  church,  but  became  better  acquainted 
with  one  another,  and  felt  that  the  bonds  of  Christian 
iellowship  were  proportionately  strengthened.  This 
method  of  working  became  peculiarly  useful  when  his 
increasing  public  duties  made  it  impossible  for  him  to 
A'isit  sej)arate  households  regularly. 

The  work  of  the  congregation,  as  it  was  superin- 
tended by  the  kirk-session,  was — ( 1 )  parochial ;  and 
(2)  non-j)arochial. 

1.  The  parochial  objects  included  not  only  mis- 
sionary operations  dealing  directly  with  the  spiritual 
interests  of  the  people,  but  also  efforts  for  their 
educational  and  social  improvement. 

(i.)  The  educational  requirements  of  his  large 
parish  gave  him  much  labour  and  anxiety.  For, 
although  there  were  several  day-schools  supported  by 
his  kirk-session,  and  managed  by  a  committee  of  their 
number,  who  visited  them  monthly  and  reported  on 
their  condition,  yet  there  were  districts  where  school 
accommodation  had  to  be  provided,  and  it  fell  to  him 
to  '  beg'  from  his  wealthier  fellow  citizens  the  gi-eater 
proportion  of  the  funds  required  for  this  purpose. 
The  toil  which  this  imposed  was  great,  and  the  task 
irksome.  Nevertheless,  during  the  first  ten  years  of 
his  incumbency,  school  accommodation  Avas  in  this 
manner  provided  for  two  thousand  scholars.  He 
attempted  besides,  on  fixed  days  of  each  month,  to 
visit  the  day  and  evening  schools,  and  examine,  en- 
courage, and  advise  the  pupils. 

As  he  came  more  in  contact  with  the  working  classes, 


1851  — 1856.  II 

lio  saw  the  need  of  still  another  educational  agency. 
Evening  classes  Avere  opened  for  adults,  at  which  the 
interesting  spectacle  Avas  j^resented  of  grown-up  men 
and  women  (many  of  them  married)  patiently  toiling 
at  different  standards,  from  the  alphabet  upwards. 
Schools  of  a  similar  nature  had  been  attempted  before, 
but  had  failed  from  insufficient  care  being  taken  in  the 
appointment  of  teachers.  He  attributed  the  success 
of  his  schools  to  the  fact  that  they  were  under  certifi- 
cated Government  teachers.  At  one  of  these  schools, 
there  were  sometimes  two  hundred  and  twenty  grown- 
up men  and  women. 

From  seven  to  twelve  Sabbath- schools,  with  some- 
times as  many  as  fourteen  hundred  scholars,  were 
organized  into  a  single  society  under  the  care  of  the 
session.  With  these  schools  the  minister  kept  him- 
self always  well  acquainted,  and  as  frequently  as 
possible  gave  expository  lectures  to  the  teachers,  on 
the  lessons.  He  also  taught  on  Sunday,  for  several 
winters,  a  class  numbering  about  one  hundred, 
consisting  of  the  children  of  members  of  his  con- 
gregation. 

(ii.)  For  the  social  improvement  of  the  parish  he 
founded  the  first  Congregational  Penny  Savings'  Bank 
in  Glasgow,  and  established  in  one  of  the  busiest 
centres  of  labour  a  Eefreshment-room,  where  working 
men  could  get  cheap  and  well-cooked  food,  and  enjoy 
a  comfortable  reading-room  at  their  meal-hours, 
instead  of  being  obliged  to  have  recourse  to  the 
public-house.  The  success  which  attended  these 
endeavours  led  to  the  establishment  of  similar  insti- 
tutions on  a  larger  scale  throughout  the  city.     In  the 


II  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

9 

later  years  of  his  ministry,  he  also  organized  various 
methods  of  affording  amusement  and  social  recreation 
to  the  people  connected  with  his  missions. 

(iii.)  The  direct  missionarfj  and  Church  extension 
work  of  the  parish  was  continually  enlarging,  and  at 
the  same  time  changing  ground.  When  he  first  came 
to  the  parish  four  chapels  were  without  ministers  or 
congregations.  These  chapels  had  been  retained  by 
the  Free  Church  for  several  years,  and  it  now  fell  to 
him  and  to  his  session  to  assist  in  procuring  ministers 
for  them,  and  to  foster  the  congregations  that  were 
being  formed.  In  other  places,  where  a  new  popula- 
tion was  rising,  churches  had  to  be  built.  In  this 
way,  as  a  sequel  to  the  work  of  reorganizing  chapels, 
six  new  churches  were  erected  in  his  parish  during 
his  ministry,  and  in  respect  to  most  of  these  he  had 
to  bear  a  large  share  of  the  burden  of  collecting 
funds.  While  this  work  of  church  extension  was 
going  forwurd,  his  mission  staff  for  overtaking  desti- 
tute localities  increased  in  ten  years  from  one  lay 
missionary,  employed  in  1852,  to  five  missionaries 
(lay  and  clerical),  with  three  Bible-women  and  a  col- 
porteur, all  of  whom  were  superintended  by  him  and 
his  session. 

There  were  other  parochial  agencies,  such  as  the 
Young  Men's  Association,  Clothing  Society,  &c.,  which 
need  not  be  particularly  noticed. 

2.  His  extra-parochial  plans  had  reference  chiefly 
to  the  raising  of  money  for  tlie  missionary  work  of  the 
Church  of  Scotland.  Here  also  organization,  and  the 
intelligent  interest  in  mission  work  at  home  and 
abroad,  created  by  his  continually  affording  informa- 


.851  —  1856.  13 

(ion  to  liis  peojile  on  tlint  subject,  bore  remarkable 
fruit.  For  although,  as  has  been  stated,  his  congre- 
gation was  not  rich,  yet  there  was  scarcely  another  in 
the  Church  which  contributed  as  much  for  missions  as 
the  Barony  did,  and  he  was  accustomed  to  refer  with 
gratification  to  the  fact  that  the  amount,  large  as  it 
was,  was  made  up  chiefly  of  very  small  sums. 

In  order  to  maintain  congregational  life,  and  to 
promote  a  sense  of  brotherly  unity,  the  kirk-session 
issued  at  short  intervals  Eeports  of  their  proceedings, 
and  a  social  festival  of  the  congregation  was  occa- 
sionally held,  at  which  these  reports  were  read,  and 
kindly  and  instructive  addresses  delivered. 

In  this  manner  he  carried  out  his  ideas  of  the 
Christian  congregation  as  a  society  united  for  work. 
And  it  was  only  by  such  careful  organization,  and  by 
the  development  of  the  latent  force  of  the  membership 
of  the  Church,  that  he  could  have  overtaken  the 
labour  which  was  crowded  into  the  twenty  years  of 
his  incumbency  in  the  Barony. 

The  work  here  described,  together  with  the  study 
requisite  for  the  pulpit — he  had  always  two,  fre- 
quently three  services  to  conduct  every  Sunday — 
might  well  have  taxed  the  energies  of  any  man.  Yet, 
during  the  years  comprised  in  this  chapter,  he  was 
able,  in  addition,  to  edit  The  Christian  Magazine,  and 
to  contribute  many  articles  to  its  pages ;  to  write, 
under  the  title  of  '  The  Earnest  Student,'  a  Memoir 
of  his  brother-in-law,  John  Mackintosh;  to  publish 
the  *  Home  School'  and  'Deborah,'  and  to  take  an 
active  part  in  the  public  and  missionary  business  of  the 
Church.     It  was  no  wonder  that  the  pressure  of  such 


14  LIFE  OF  KOFJ/AX  MACLEOD. 

labour  tried  his  strengtli  to  the  utmost,  or  tliat  in 
spite  of  his  marvellous  ph>/siqiie.,  he  continually  suf- 
fered from  ailments  which  the  world,  seeing  only  his 
unfailing  geniality,  could  not  have  suspected.  Kis 
irrepressible  humour  and  self-forgetfulness  concealed 
from  the  eyes  of  strangers  the  burthen  he  was  often 
bearing,  alike  of  mental  anxiety  and  of  bodily  pain. 


From  Ilia  Journal  :— 

"  June  3,  1852. — "  What  a  year  of  mercies  and  of 
loving  providences  has  this  last  one  of  my  life  been  !  I 
have  come  to  a  new  parish — having  the  best  living  in 
Scotland  (for  which  I  feel  deeply  gratefid  !)  ;  a  glorious 
field  of  labour.  I  have  married,  and  liave  had  a  dear  cliild 
bom  to  me. 

"  I  have  as  yet  done  little — I  have  done  nothing,  that 
the  great  world  can  ever  hear  of,  or  if  they  did,  care  for. 
As  far  as  fame  is  concerned,  I  am  but  one  of  many 
millions  ecpially  eminent  on  earth,  and  equally  unknown. 
But  I  am  thinking  of  what  I  have  done  (jod-ward — of 
what  He  knows — of  what  will  last  in  eternity  ;  and  when 
I  consider  what  I  might  have  done  (therefore  ought  to 
have  done,  and  therefore  am  very  guilty  in  not  having 
done),  had  I  been  daily  earnest  in  prayer  ;  had  I  been 
daily  diligent  and  laborious  in  mastering  those  details  in 
the  Christian  character  Avhich  can  alone  insure  success  in 
the  end  :  had  I  been  watchful  of  my  heart,  careful  in 
forming  habits,  conscientious  in  using  my  influence,  saving 
of  my  time  for  readmg,  and  improving  my  mind,  and 
becoming  a  better  scholar  and  a  more  learned  man ; 
had  I  laboured  to  make  every  sermon  the  best  possible 
• — what  could  I  have  done  by  the  blessing  of  God  on 
all !  But  I  have  been  fritteHng  my  time.  There  has 
been  a  want  of  concentrated  etlbrt ;  a  thousand  little 
things  connected  with  everything  have  scattered  my 
strength.      I  have  been  deplorably  slothful,  and  above  all 


1851  — 1856.  IS 

procrastinatino'.  This  has  been  a  frightful  incul)iis  upon 
my  life — not  doing  in  the  hour  the  work  which  should 
have  been  done.  There  is  no  habit  the  want  of  Avliich  I 
have  felt  more  than  that  of  proposing  a  worthy  end, 
whether  of  study  or  some  plan  of  Christian  benevolence, 
and  working  wisely  and  doggedly  up  to  it  for  years.  I 
am  too  impatient  and  eager  to  grasp  the  end  which  I 
vividly  realise  in  my  mind,  but  cannot  bear  to  aiiain 
by  a  long,  fagging  attention  to  the  dry,  prosaic  details 
which,  by  the  wise  decree  of  God,  are  the  essential  steps 
of  ascent  to  the  summit.  But  by  the  grace  of  God  I  shall 
fight  against  this  evil,  and  put  it  down  in  time  to  come." 


From  his  JouEifAL  : — 

"  Sunday,  Sept.  5,  1852. — What  I  propose  for  this 
winter  is  the  following  programme  : — 

"  1.  Rise  as  near  six  as  possible.  After  devotion,  give 
the  mornings  of  Monday,  Tuesday,  and  Wednesday,  to 
John's  Memoir  ;  of  Thursday,  to  the  Magazine  ;  and 
Friday,  Saturday,  wholly  to  sermons. 

"  2.  Keep  the  house  till  1  p.m.  ;  at  9  A.M.  prayers ; 
9 1,  breakfast  ;  10  to  11,  letters  ;  11  to  1,  when  not  inter- 
rupted, the  business  of  the  morning  continued,  or  public 
business,  as  may  be  necessary  ;  from  2  till  5,  on  Monday, 
Tuesday,  Wednesday,  Thursday,  visiting  sick,  parish  visita- 
tion, and  calls  ;  4,  Friday  and  Saturday,  to  be  given 
entirely  to  writing  sermons  ;  5,  attend  the  evening  adult 
class  ;  6,  as  much  as  possible  devote  the  time  after  dinner 
to  my  family  and  reading. 

"  May  God  in  mercy  help  me  !     I  will  begin  to-morrow. 

"  Sept.  6. — Rose  at  6.  This  day  I  begin  the  memoir 
of  my  beloved  John.  Oh  my  God  and  his,  guide  my  pen ! 
In  mercy  keep  me  from  writing  anything  false  in  fact  or 
sentiment.  May  strict  Truth  pervade  every  sentence  ! 
May  I  be  enabled  to  show  in  him  the  education  of  the 
grace  of  God,  so  that  other  scholars  in  thy  school  may  be 
quickened  and  encouraged  to  be  followers  of  him  as  he 
was  of  Christ !     I  feel  utterly  unworthy  to  undertake  this 


i6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

memoir,  or  of  any  of  even  the  least  of  thy  saints.  But  thou 
who  hast  given  me  tliis  work  in  thy  providence,  and  called 
me  to  preach  the  unsearchable  riches  of  Christ,  wilt  enal)le 
mo,  1  doubt  not,  to  show  the  riches  of  Christ  as  displayed 
in  a  poor  sinner,  and  so  to  write  that  thy  Church  on 
earth  will  approve,  because  it  is  such  as  is  approved  of 
by  Jesus.      Hear  me,  Lord  ! 

"  Oct.  Sth,  6  A.M. — Subjects  for  prayer — 

"  A  deeper  si)iritual  insight  into  the  Divine  character, — 
to  be  able  to  sa}'-,  with  increasing  intelligence,  '  Thine  eye 
seeth  me.' 

"To  be  devoted  and  be  ready  to  give  up  all  at  a 
moment's  notice  to  Jesus  ;  yea,  in  heart  to  resign  all. 

"  I  acknowledge  that  it  is  morally  impossil^le  for  me 
without  an  omnipotent  Saviour  to  do  these  things  in 
any  degree.  Lord,  I  believe  in  Thee  !  I  desire  to  have 
Christ's  love  to  His  people  and  the  world.  Alas !  alas  ! 
what  a  microscopic  shadow  of  it  have  I  ! 

"  Oh  my  God,  make  me  indeed  a  father  to  my  people  ! 
Help  me  to  crucify  this  selfish,  slothful,  self-indulgent, 
heart !  Help  me  constantly  to  forget  self,  and  to  seek, 
even  to  death,  to  do  Thy  will  ;  for  then  only  shall  I  find 
my  truer  self !     Oh  my  God,  pity  me  ! 

"Oct.  nth,  4^  A.M. — Have  been  reading  a  little  of 
*  Biainerd.'  Next  to  the  Bible,  Christian  biography  is  the 
most  i:)rofitable.  In  as  far  as  it  is  true,  it  is  a  revelation  of 
the  living  God,  through  His  living  Church.  The  expe- 
rience of  the  Church  is  one  of  the  few  accumulatincr 
privileges  of  the  latter  days.  It  is  when  I  read  some  of 
the  aspirations  of  Brainerd,  that  I  feel  how  far  away  I  am 
from  that  pure  and  lofty  spirituality  of  mind,  which 
is  the  very  atmosphere  of  heaven.  *  Though  my  body 
was  wearied  with  preaching  and  much  private  conversa- 
tion, yet  I  wanted  to  sit  up  all  night  and  do  something 
for  God.'  It  is  this  real  love  to  God, — this  forgetfuhiess  of 
self,  this  disregard  to  flesh-indulgence  when  comjjared 
with  spirit-indulgence — it  is  this  I  so  much  need.  Yet, 
blessed  be  God,  there  is  nothing  we  should  be  but  we 
shall  be  by  His  grace.  *  But,  Lord,  how  long  ?  '  When  ? 
Ah  !    let    me    cover    my    face    with    shame    (let    me    be 


iSsi  — 1856.  17 

ashamed  because  I  am  not  ashamed  more  ! ),  that  I 
have  not  laboured,  agonised  thirty  years  ago.  What 
niisfht  I  hate  been  now  !  An  humble,  earnest-minded 
servant,  devoted  to  Jesus,  converting  thousands  !  ^lay  God 
Almighty  enable  me  to  redeem  the  short  time,  and  to  be 
His  wholly  and  for  ever ! 

''Sunday  morning,  Oct.  12th,  six  odock. — A  lovely, 
peaceful  morning,  the  atmosphere  transparent,  the  landscape 
clear  and  pure,  with  its  white  houses,  and  fields  and  trees. 

"  Glorious  day  !  the  only  day  on  earth  the  least  like 
heaven.  It  is  the  day  of  peace  which  follows  the  day  of 
battle  and  victory.  '  And  all  this  mighty  heart  is  lying 
still,'  the  forge  silent,  the  cotton-mill  asleep,  the  steamers 
moored,  the  carts  and  waggons  gone  to  the  warehouse,  the 
shops  closed,  man  and  beast  enjoying  rest  and  all  men 
invited  to  seek  rest  in  God  !  How  solemn  the  thought  of 
the  millions  who  will  this  day  think  of  God,  and  pray  to 
God,  and  gaze  uj^on  eternal  things  ;  on  sea  and  land,  in 
church  and  chapel,  on  sick  bed  and  in  crowded  congrega- 
tions !  How  many  thousands  in  Great  Britain  and  Ireland 
will  do  this  !  Clergy  praying  and  preaching  to  millions. 
This  never  was  the  device  of  either  man  or  devil.  If  it 
was  the  *  device  of  the  Church,'  she  is  indeed  of  God. 

"  May  the  Lord  anoint  me  this  day  with  His  Spirit  ! 

"Saturday  18th. — Some  things  I  see  I  must  correct. 
(1)  I  must  be  careful  of  pence,  as  I  find  I  am  hideously 
extravagant  with  pounds.  Lord  help  me  in  this  thing  ! 
He  who  gathered  up  fragments,  and  who  in  nature  lets 
nothing  be  lost,  but  turns  all  to  some  account,  will  help 
me.  (2)  To  have  a  fixed  time  for  devotion  at  night. 
'  Sin  shall  not  have  dominion  over  you,  for  ye  are  not 
under  law,  but  under  grace.' 

"  The  God  of  peace  sanctify  you  wholly,  and  may 
your  whole  spirit,  and  soul,  and  body,  be  preserved 
blameless  unto  the  coming  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ. 
'  Faithful  is  He  who  calleth  you,  who  also  will  do  this  !  ' 

"  Sunday,  Oct.  19th,  7  a.m. — (First  day  that  I  am  late.) 
The  closer  we  live  with  God,  and  the  more  our  spiritual 
life  in  Him  is  manifested  to  the  world  in  its  results 
onh^  the  better  I  think  for  ourselves.      When  the  inner 

VOL.    II.  c 


i8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

life  is  revealed  in  words,  it  is  apt  to  end  in  wordp,  and 
to  become  cant.  Spiritual  ]i)ride  is  thereby  nourished, 
and  this  is  great  destruction.  Oh  my  God,  enable  me  to 
thwart  and  utterly  mortify  my  cursed  vanity  and  pride, 
by  giving  me  strength  to  hide  all  my  good  in  this  sense, 
not  to  speak  to  my  nearest  of  good  deeds  done,  but  to  do 
them  cheerfully  before  Thee  only,  and  to  have  the  delight 
in  making  others  happier  and  better,  pleasing  Thee,  my 
Father,  for  I  know  Thou  art  so  loving  and  good  as  to 
be  pleased  Avith  Thy  children  who  by  Thy  grace  are  in 
any  degree  imbued  with  Thy  goodness! 

"  The  less  self-reflective  good  is,  and  the  more  outward 
and  unconscious  it  is,  the  better. 

"Sat,  6  A.M. — People  talk  of  early  morning  in  the 
country  with  bleating  sheep,  singing  larks,  and  purling 
brooks.  I  jjrefer  that  roar  which  greets  my  ear  when 
a  thousand  hammers,  thundering  on  boilers  of  steam 
vessels  which  are  to  bridge  the  Atlantic  or  Pacific,  usher 
in  a  new  day — the  type  of  a  new  era.  I  feel  men  are 
awake  with  me,  doing  their  Avork,  and  that  the  world  is 
rushing  on  to  fulfil  its  mighty  destinies,  and  that  I  must 
do  my  work,  and  fulfil  my  grand  and  glorious  end. 

"  Oh  !  to  see  the  Church  and  the  world  with  Christ's 
eyes  and  heart  ! 

"  I  must  cultivate  the  habit  of  much  personal  com- 
munion with  God  during  the  day  ;  speaking  in  the  spirit 
to  Him  as  well  as  (or  rather  in  order  to)  living  in  the  Spirit. 

"Nov.  Hjth. — Yesterday  morning,  as  usual,  rose  at 
5.50.  A.M. 

"  Had  a  horrid  nightmare — indeed,  a  series  of  them. 
What  a  sense  of  the  horrible  and  awful  we  get  in  our 
dreams  !  What  a  sense  of  desperation — of  sore,  irresistible, 
mysterious,  soul-subduing  sutfering  !  Immense  despair  ! 
Dreams  have  taught  me,  more  than  my  waking  moments, 
the  capacity  of  the  soul  to  imagine  and  endure  agony. 
Oh,  what  if  our  Avorst  dreams  of  solitude,  bereavement, 
desertion,  and  grapplings  Avith  resistless  and  hellish  foes 
Avere  realities  !      What  if  we  were  in  a  fatherless  Avorld  ! 

"  Monday  1  Sth. — Hoav  my  morning  readings  in  Jonathan 
Edwards  make  me  long  for  a  revival !     It  Avould  be  worth 


1851 ]856.  iq 

a  hundred  dead  generul  assemblies,  if  we  had  any  meetin^^' 
of  believing  ministers  or  people — to  cry  to  God  for  a 
revival.  This,  and  this  alone,  is  what  we  want.  Death 
reigns  !  God  has  His  witnesses  everywhere  no  doubt — but 
as  a  whole  we  are  skm  and  bone.  AMien  I  |)icture  to 
myself  a  living  people,  with  love  in  their  looks  and  words, 
calm,  zealous,  self-sacrificing,  seeking  God's  glory,  and 
having  in  Glasgow  their  citizenship  in  Heaven  !  it  might 
make  me  labour  and  die  for  such  a  consummation. 

"  Strong  west  wind,  grey  clouds,  and  heavy,  lurid  atmo- 
sphere ;  on  the  whole  a  cold  and  cheerless  day.  They  are 
at  this  moment  laying  Wellington  beside  Nelson,  and 
finishing  an  era  in  British  history.  All  eyes  are  attracted 
at  this  moment  in  London  to  one  common  centre — that 
centre  a  j^erson,  that  person  the  saviour  of  his  country. 
It  is  he  who  gives  unity  to  the  whole  of  that  immense 
mass  of  human  beings  who  now  crowd  the  streets  through 
which  the  body  passes  ;  and  unity  to  that  marvellous  re- 
presentation of  all  our  nationalities  in  St.  Paul's.  Signi- 
ficant symbol  of  the  future,  when  ever}^  eye  shall  see  Him, 
and  when  a  risen  Saviour  shall  alone  occupy  the  thoughts 
of  an  assembled  universe  ! 

"  Tuesday,  Nov.  19th. — 5.45  a.m.  Last  night  I  went  to 
Camlachie  to  receive  communicants  in  connection  witli 
that  chapel. 

"  Material  preparations  of  stipend,  beadles,  com- 
mittees, seem  at  the  time  mere  dead  things,  but  such 
details  are  inseparably  connected  wuth  the  great  result 
Even  as  the  boat  which  conveyed  Christ  to  the  country 
of  the  Gadarenes  was  connected  with  the  cure  of  the 
Demoniac." 

To  his  sister  Jane  : — 

Odoler,  1852. 

"  One  chief  reason  of  my  writing  to-day  is  immense 
cocMness  at  being  able  to  report  unswerving  doggedness  in 
early  rising.  I  preached  yesterday  thrice,  one  of  tlie 
services  six  miles  out  of  town,  and  was  up  at  quarter 
past  five — fresh,  joyous,  and  thankful  !  Room  dark, 
curtains   drawn,    gas    lighted,    coffee-pot    small    and   neat 

c  2 


zo  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

(mark  all  this  !),  tixed  by  cunning  mechanism  over  the 
gas,  cup  with  sugar  and  cream,  all  so  'jolly.'  Then 
begins  the  Avaking  up  of  the  great  city,  tlie  tluimlcr- 
ing  of  hammers  from  the  boilers  of  great  Pacific  and 
Atlantic  steamers — a  music  of  humanity,  of  the  giant 
march  of  civilisation  ;  far  grander  to  hear  at  mom  tlian 
even  the  singing  of  larks,  which  did  very  well  in  Isaac 
Walton's  days,  or  the  bleat  of  sheep,  which  can  yet  meet 
my  mother's  rustic  tendencies." 

From  his  JouiiNAL  : — 

"Dec.  11th. — I  have  spent  a  weary,  weary  month. 
Seldom  have  I  done  more,  and  done  less.  Oh  !  what  a 
den  of  lions  for  the  soul  is  the  life  of  an  active  and  ever 
busy  minister !  My  difficulty  is  not  to  work,  but  to  do 
so  in  the  right  spirit.  I  do  not  mean  that  I  have  been 
consciously  living  under  the  influence  of  a  bad  spirit, 
such  as  vanity,  or  pride,  but  rather  that  I  have  been 
without  that  calm  and  happy  frame  of  mind  which 
springs  from  a  sense  of  God's  presence,  love,  and  blessing. 
My  mind  has  been  wandering  without  any  ballast  or 
guiding  power,  like  a  feather  before  the  wind,  almost  every 
day  since  this  fearful  winter  campaign  has  set  in. 

"  (1)  How  insignificant  I  am  as  a  mere  workman  ;  an 
insect  in  the  coral  island  of  the  world  which  has  been 
building  for  6,000  years.  Who  was  he  who  helped  to 
build  the  palace  of  Nimrod  ?  or  the  temple  of  Baalbee  ?  or 
planned  Karnac  ?  Fussy,  important,  of  immense  conse- 
quence, no  doubt  I  As  he  is,  so  shall  I  be — be  at 
peace ! 

"  (2)  Jesus  is  governor  !  It  is  His  work,  and  awful  is 
it  from  age  to  age,  from  clime  to  clime  !  It  shall  go  on 
without  me — be  at  peace  ! 

"  (3)  Why  does  God  give  me  work  at  all  ?  For  no  end 
whatever  irrespective  of  my  own  good.  He  Avould  thus 
make  me  better,  and  thereby  happier,  and  educate  me  for 
my  great  work  in  Heaven.  He  would  have  me  be  a  fellow 
worker,  having  fellowship  with  Him  not  only  in  activity,  but 
also  in  peace  and  joy.  But  when  I  forget  Him,  or  labour 
apart  from    Him,   or   with    separate   interests,   I   lose   all ! 


1851  — 1^56-  21 

The  work  becomes  outward,  senseless,  unmeaning.  Lord, 
give  me  quiet  :ind  peace  !  Let  me  work  only  truo 
work  in  Thy  Name,  and  by  Thy  Spirit,  and  for  Thy 
glory  ! 

"...  The  thunder  and  lightning  of  Sinai  had  a  very 
different  meaning  to  an  Arabian  shepherd,  who  might  be 
gazing  on  the  spectacle  from  some  distant  peak,  from 
what  they  had  to  Moses  and  the  children  of  Israel. 
Material  things  may  have  a  meaning  to  angels  which 
they  have  not  to  us,  and  be  sacraments  of  great 
truths.  Who  knows  but  the  starry  heavens  are  one  great 
algebra  ? 

"  I  believe  thanksgiving  a  greater  mark  of  holiness 
than  any  other  part  of  prayer.  I  mean  special  thanks- 
givmg  for  mercies  asked  and  received.  It  is  a  testimony 
to  prayers  being  remembered,  and  therefore  earnest  prayer. 
It  is  unselfish,  and  more  loving. 

"  What  should  we  think  if  an  angel  from  heaven 
appeared  to  us  some  morning,  and  said  :  '  This  day  Satan, 
with  all  his  power,  subtlety,  and  wiles,  may  try  to  destroy 
thee  ;  and  Jesus  bids  me  say  He  will  shut  His  eyes  and 
ears  to  thee,  and  send  thee  no  help  ?  This  day  thou  hast 
duties  to  perform  in  a  right  spirit  ;  Jesus  bids  me  say  He 
will  not  give  thee  His  Spirit.  This  day  the  heaviest  trials 
ever  experienced  by  thee  may  be  thine  ;  Jesus  bids  me 
say  He  will  not  afford  thee  any  support.  This  day  thou 
may  est  die  ;  Jesus  bids  me  say  He  will  not  be  with  thee. 
Jesus  bids  thee  adieu  for  this  day,  and  leaves  thee  alone 
with  thy  evil  heart,  bhnd  mind,  powerful  enemies  ;  hell 
beneath  thee,  death  before  thee,  judgment  above  thee,  and 
eternity  before  thee  ! '     Oh,  horrible  despair  ! 

"  But  why  art  thou  not  afraid  of  this  when  a  day  is 
begun  without  prayer  ?  Art  thou  not  practically  saying 
to  all  this,  '  Amen  !  so  let  it  be  ? ' 

^  "  Does  God  love  a  cheerful  giver  ?  and  is  He  not  one 

himself  ? 

"  A  godly  parent  is  a  god-like  parent,  i.e.  a  parent  who 
is  God's  image  in  the  family— as  God  to  them  m  life, 
teaching,  love,  character. 


zz  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

'*  A  godly  horne-education  is  one  which  trains  up  the 
child  by  the  earthly  to  the  heavenly  Father. 

"  That  a  parent  may  be  as  God  to  his  child,  he  nuist 
first  be  as  a  child  to  his  God.  To  teach,  he  must  be 
taught ;  and  receive,  that  he  may  give. 

"  What  the  father  on  earth  wishes  his  child  to  bt. 
towards  himself  that  God  wishes  the  parent  himself  to  be 
towards  his  Father  in  heaven.  Hence  children  are  wit- 
nesses for  God  in  the  parent's  heart,  as  well  as  the  parents 
are  for  Him  in  the  hearts  of  their  children. 

"  What  a  compound  of  vanity,  greed,  and  the  selfish- 
ness which  is  hate  that  would  end  in  murder,  is  that 
villain  Haman  ! — mean,  sneaking,  stuffed  with  vanity  and 
ambition  !  a  thorough,  contemptible  scoundrel,  whose 
hancfinsf  was  well  deserved !  His  very  terror  when 
condemned  is  so  like  the  dog — quite  hke  the  cowardly 
rascal  that  would  hang  others,  and  smoke  his  pipe,  or,  hah- 
drunk,  babble  over  it  with  his  Jezebel  wife." 


From  Diary  Book  of  1853  : — 

"  Resolve,  as  a  solemn  duty  owing  to  my  parish,  to 
refuse,  after  this  date,  public  meetings  in  town  and 
country,  .and  all  dinners  when  possible,  and  to  confine 
myself  exclusively  to  my  great  parish  till  at  least  April, 
i.e.  four  months,  and  not  to  be  moved  from  this  by 
any  arguments,  however  plausible,  but  to  submit  to 
any  amount  of  displeasure  rather  than  give  up  a  clear 
duty. 

"Jan.  1st. — "God  has  been  very  merciful  to  me 
during  the  past  year.  I  never  had  so  unbroken  a  your 
of  prosperity,  in  the  usual  sense  of  that  word. 

"  I  have  preached  about  one  hundred  and  forty  times, 
seven  of  them  for  public  collections,  many  for  chapels.  I 
have  addressed  about  thirteen  meetings  for  missions  and 
other  useful  objects.  Held  seven  mission  meetings  in  my 
own  church.  Tublished  a  sermon  and  edited  magazine. 
Organised  (1)  Schemes,  (2)  Industrial  aid,  (3)  Female  aid, 
(4)  Endowment    (5)  Education  cominittccs  .n  congregation. 


1851 — 1856.  23 

Opened  refreshment-rooms  for  working  classes.  Opened 
three  chapels  with  three  missionaries.  Suggested  and  helped 
to  carry  out  a  proposal  for  two  new  churches,  for  which 
£10,000  is  now  collected.  About  to  build  three  new 
schools.  Have  commenced  work  in  Barnhill  Poor  House. 
Visited  in  twenty-two  days  about  two  hundred  and  twenty- 
two  families.  Have  organized  a  congregational  class  of 
one  hundred  and  ten  from  eight  to  fourteen  years  of  age. 
Wrote  report  on  Pauper  Education.''^'  I  need  to  reform 
the  schemes.  Have  had  two  large  classes  of  young  men 
and  women  for  three  months. 

"  The  past  year  has  been  marked  to  me  specially  by 
the  gift  of  my  child  ;  and  what  a  gift  !  believing  as  I 
do  that,  in  answer  to  prayer,  the  Lord  will  in  His  own 
way  keep  her  with  us  in  the  bundle  of  life  eternal. 

"April  7th. — Fast-day.  The  kind  of  frittered  life  I 
am  compelled  (I  may  say)  to  lead,  dipping  like  a  sea-gull 
for  my  food  ever  and  anon,  as  it  is  turned  up  by  some 
wave  on  the  surface,  never  diving  deep,  never  soaring 
high,  never  at  rest,  injures  terribly  my  moral  being.  My 
brain  becomes  like  a  bee-hive,  so  that  when  I  begin  to 
read  and  pray,  my  thoughts  slide  off  to  chapels  or  texts, 
or  some  scheme  or  "sermon,  while  I  utterly  despise  myself. 
I  desire  this  day  to  be  a  day  of  self-examination,  of  thank- 
fulness and  quickening. 

"  It  requires  omnipotence  to  make  me  what  I  wish  to 
be — simple,  unselfish,  and  zealous,  with  nothing  to  keep 
the  fire  always  burning,  and  the  heart  joyous,  and  the 
limbs  strong,  save  the  love  of  Jesus  Christ." 

•  Among  his  many  duties  as  minister  of  a  parisb,  he  had  to  give 
his  attention  to  the  administration  of  the  Poor-law,  and  shortly  after 
his  induction,  being  shocked  at  the  number  of  pauper  children  M'ho 
were  kept  in  the  workliouse  at  Barnhill,  he  proposed  the  complete 
adoption  of  the  '  boarding  out '  system,  whereby  the  young  would, 
be  brought  up  in  the  houses  of  decent  people  in  the  country.  This 
was  accordingly  done.  The  following  year  he  wrote  a  long  and  elabo- 
rate paper  on  the  advisability  of  forming  an  industrial  farm.  This 
paper  was  printed  by  order  of  the  Board,  but  its  suggestions  wer« 
never  fully  adopted. 


24  LIFE  OF  .VOF!.V:iX  MACLEOD. 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

LoxnoN,  ^f'l^,  .1^3. 

"  What  a  pious  and  Cliristian  congi'egation  I  must  liave 
had  with  so  many  of  the  aristocracy  !  I  (Hil  not  i^reach 
any  one  of  the  more  elaborate  sermons  I  had  with  me,  but 
one  I  had  never  written.  But  I  was  convinced  it  was 
best  suited  for  the  audience.  I  had  great  comfort  in 
jjreaching  it,  because  I  felt  a  sincere  desire  to  do  good, 
which  is  always  strength  and  peace." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"Cove,  August  27 fh,  1853,  Sahhath. — I  have  taken 
this  Sabbath  to  myself,  the  only  one  for  two  years,  except 
one  in  Paris.      I  need  rest,  and  I  am  enjoying  it. 

"  After  my  delightful  congregational  meeting  in  May,  I 
went  to  London,  preached  missionary  sermons  for  Wes- 
leyans,  spoke  at  the  meeting  of  the  Tract  Society,  and  for 
our  own  missions,  and  then  went  with  my  brother  (ieorge 
to  Paris. 

"  It  is  awful  to  feel  what  a  holy  man  with  the  ordinary 
measure  of  practical  talent  which  I  possess  may  do.  We 
seek  to  be  Goliaths,  and  are  killed  by  pebbles.  Could 
y\e  begin  in  faith  and  be  as  little  children,  we  should  slay 
Goliaths  !  0  my  God,  make  me  a  good  man  !  0  my 
Father,  come  what  may,  make  me  a  simple-minded,  honest, 
humble  and  brave  Christian  !  Let  me  seek  no  favour  but 
Thine,  and  give  my  heart  to  no  labour  but  in  Thee  and  for 
Thee  !  W^ith  God  my  Saviour  as  my  help  and  guide  I 
may,  ere  I  die,  be  ft  blessing  to  Glasgow,  especially  to  the 
poor  and  miserable  in  it,  for  whom  my  heart  bleeds. 

"  A  lovely  Sabbath-day,  with  calm  seas,  purple  hills, 
murmuring  waves,  devout  repose  !  Wlien  shall  my 
brothers  and  sisters  in  the  lanes  and  closes  find  such  a 
Sabbath  of  peace  and  beauty  in  God  ! 

"  i^ept.  \Stli. — Have  had  spiritually  a  good  wook,  but 
physically  one  too  much  oppressed  by  labour.  I  have 
steadfastly  ke})t  my  hours.  My  reading  has  been  Baxter's 
'  Reformed  Pastor'  (very  toucliing),  and  Mill's  '  Pohtical 
Economy.'  " 


:85i — 1856.  25 

The  following  letter  was  written  to  a  lady  whose 
son  had  been  boarded  with  him  in  Dalkeith,  and  who 
was  at  this  time  a  midshipman  in  the  navy.  The 
allusion  to  his  method  of  training  boys  refers  to  the 
principle  he  acted  on  of  frankly  telling  them  of  the 
temptations  they  would  be  exposed  to  in  life — 
*  better,'  he  used  to  say,  '  they  should  hear  all  about 
it  from  me  than  from  the  devil ; ' — and  he  was  over- 
joyed by  now  receiving  a  letter  which  showed  he  had 
acted  wisely. 

"  I  send  without  hesitation  his  letter  to  myself.  I 
cannot  express  to  you  how  gratified  and  thankful  it  has 
made  me.  In  so  teaching  him,  I  followed  my  own  con- 
victions, and  carried  out  a  theory  of  education  which  I 
had  long  held,  founded  chiefly  upon  God's  teaching  in  the 
Bible — in  the  Pentateuch  specially,  which  m  all  its  details 
of  crime,  and  awful  warnings,  was  to  be  read  each  year  to 
the  young  as  well  as  to  the  old.  The  evidence  afforded  by 
his  letter  of  the  success  in  his  case  of  such  a  mode  of 
instruction  is  most  encouraging." 


To  Mrs.  Dennistoun  : — 

"  Did  no  shadows,  or  shades,  or  shades  of  shadows,  such 
as  seldom  dim  your  fair  spirit,  pass  over  it,  cast  from  the 
actual  substance  of  my  carelessness  in  not  writing  to  you  ? 
My  dog  Skye,  often  and  long  the  sole  companion  of  my 
study,  alone  knows  the  sorrowings  and  repentings  I  have 
had  anent  unanswered  letters !  He  has  heard  my 
groans,  witnessed  my  tossings,  and  listened  with  dread 
to  the  stampings  of  my  foot !  until,  with  his  quiet  eye 
and  loving  wag  from  that  eloquent  and  soothing  tail, 
he  has  quieted  me  into  better  humour  with  myself  At 
present  having  no  Skye,  but  only  my  wife  and  child,  I 
am  out  of  humour  and  ashamed  of  myself,  and  have  lost 
self-respect." 

"  Oct.  3rd — How  shall  I  express  my  gratitude  to  God  ? 


2  6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

This  afternoon  my  boy  was  bom.  I  have  felt  cruslied  by 
the  wui<,^ht  of  God's  mercy.  To  live  in  another  being,  and 
in  the  highest  form  of  the  human  creation,  is  a  g.cat  tilling- 
up  of  the  soul's  cravings.  What  an  object  of  love  !  The 
moment  I  heard  of  his  l)irth  I  solemnly  dedicated  him  to 
the  Lord,  and  so  did  we  both  in  })rayer  when  we  first  met. 
We  cannot  wish  him  to  be  anything  grander  in  the 
universe  of  God  than  a  Christian.  This  we  seek  first, 
and  for  this  we  shall  labour  and  pray.  AVhatever  else 
may  befall  him,  this  we  seek  as  tiie  one  thing  needful 
for  him,  whether  that  is  to  be  attained  by  sickness  or 
health,  by  poverty  or  Avealth.  I  pray  that  whatever 
else  happens,  should  God  so  will  that  the  whole  family 
are  to  reach  the  shore  on  floating  pieces  of  the  wreck  of 
a  broken  house,  yet  let  us  all  meet  there,  and  be  for  ever 
with  the  Lord ! 

"  Into  Thy  hands,  our  God,  we  resign  our  children,  and 
dedicate  them  to  God  the  Father,  through  Jesus  the  Son, 
and  in  the  Holy  Ghost  the  Sanctifier,  one  God,  our  God, 
and  our  fathers'  God.     Amen  !  " 


The  Education  question  was  at  this  time  exciting 
keen  discussion  in  Scotland,  and  when  the  proposed 
measure  of  Lord  Moncrieff  was  before  Parliament,  its 
merits  were  debated  by  the  Presbytery  of  Glasgow. 
Norman  Macleod  was  one  of  the  speakers ;  and,  while 
he  defended  the  parish  schools,  and  could  see  no 
practical  benefit  likely  to  accrue  to  the  nation  by 
the  severance  of  the  link  which  united  them  to  the 
Church,  he  argued  strongly  in  favour  of  the' Church 
herself  attemj)ting  to  find  a  basis  on  which  the 
three  great  Presbyterian  bodies  in  the  country  might 
co-operate  for  the  furtherance  of  education.  lie 
wished  the  privileges  of  an  Establishment  to  bo 
recognised — 


i85r^ — 1856.  27 

"  .  .  .  .  as  a  holy  trust  to  be  used  for  tlie  good 
of  the  country  at  large,  and  of  value  solely  as  eniployed 
for  this  the  true  end  of  her  existence  in  the  State.  So 
far  from  grudghig  to  share  Avith  other  bodies  our 
peculiar  advantages.  I  would  hold  it  as  a  first  truth,  and 
entering  into  the  essential  idea  of  Christianity,  that  our 
personal  and  social  blessings  are  given  us  not  for 
selfish  enjoyment,  but  to  be  shared  as  far  as  possiljle  with 
others." 

Under  whatever  form  of  management  the  public 
schools  might  be  placed,  he  earnestly  desired  a  higher 
and  more  practical  system  of  instruction. 

"  We  want,  for  instance,  a  higher  class  of  industrial 
schools,  in  our  large  towns  especially,  for  our  females, 
where,  in  addition  to  the  ordinary  branches  of  learning, 
they  must  also  receive  instruction  in  shaping  and  making 
clothes,  in  washing  and  dressing  them,  and  in  cooking  too, 
so  as  to  fit  them  to  become  cleanly,  thoroughly  intelligent 
wives,  and  in  every  respect  helps-meet  for  an  artisan, 
who  could  make  his  home  more  attractive  to  him 
than  the  whisky-shop,  and  be  themselves  more  com- 
panionable than  its  frequenters.  We  require  a  wider 
education  for  our  artisans  themselves,  so  as  to  train  them 
up  to  such  fixed  ideas  and  habits  as  may  fit  them  to  meet 
the  actual  temptations  to  which  they  are  exposed,  to 
perform  their  duties  as  workmeu,  parents,  citizens  ;  and 
so  as  to  enlarge,  also,  the  field  of  their  enjoyment  as 
human  beings  possessed  of  various  tastes  which  are  caj^a- 
ble  of  bein<?  cultivated,  and  made  the  sources  of  refined 
pleasure.  To  accomplish  all  this,  I  think  we  require  a 
higher  style  of  teacher,  imbued  with  lofty  ideas  of  his 
hio^h  calling,  as  the  man  who  contributes  so  much  to 
mould  the  character  of  the  nation  and  to  Q^ive  a  com- 
plexion  to  coming  generations — a  man,  in  short,  with 
somewhat  of  the  spirit  of  Arnold.  I  do  think  that  a  careful 
training  of  our  people — to  enable  them  to  discharge  their 
individual  duties,  such  as  stea'dy  labour,   preservation   of 


2  8  LIFE  OF  NOR  MAX  MACLEOD. 

healtli,  sobriety,  kindness,  pnulenee,  chastity  ;  their 
domestic  duties  as  parents  ;  tlieir  duties  as  memhers  of 
society,  in  courteous  and  truthful  deahngs,  fuliilnient  of 
engagements,  ohedience  combined  with  independence  as 
workmen  ;  their  duties  towards  the  State,  whether  with 
reference  to  their  rulers  or  the  administrators  of  law,  along 
Avith  information  on  the  history  and  government  of  their 
country,  and  such  like — that  upon  such  points  as  these 
their  training  has  been  greatly  neglected,  and  requires  to 
be  extensively  improved,  and  based  upon  and  saturated 
with  Christian  principle.  I  think  we  owe  something  to 
the  Secularists  in  directing  our  attention  to  details  in  the 
education  required  for  common  life  ;  while  they  ought  to  be 
grateful  to  us  for  imbuing  the  mind  with  the  only  power 
which  Avill  enable  men  to  apply  their  knowledge  to 
practice." 


From  Lis  Journal  : — 

''  A'pril  2iird,  1854. — I  have  been  verv^  busy  Avith  the 
memoir.  The  want  of  incident  is  my  difficulty.  I  must 
always  remember  those  reading  it  who  never  heard  of  his 
name.  I  have  alwa3'S  felt  an  assurance  that  Jesus  loved 
John  too  well  to  permit  me  to  misinterpret  that  character, 
v.'hich  had  been  proved  by  His  own  Spirit,  and  which  was 
given  me  in  providence  to  show  to  the  world. 

"May  7/A.— I  go  to-morrow  to  London,  to  preach  for  the 
London  Missionary  Society,  thankful  in  being  honoured 
thus  to  help  on  the  world's  work  of  advancing  Christ's 
kingdom.  Whatever  comes,  I  feel  assured  all  will  be 
well"* 


He  attended  the  General  Assembly  of  1854,  and 
took  a  prominent  part  in  nearly  all  the  debates.  In 
this  Assembly — and  this  may  be  said  of  all  those  of 

•  His  sci-mon  on  this  occasion  made  a  profound  impression,  and  the 
Directors  not  onlj'  expressed  their  thanks,  but  repeatedly  urged  him 
to  publish  it.     This,  however,  he  declined  to  do. 


1851  — 1856.  29 

■wliicli.  he  was  in  after  years  a  member — his  addresses 
on  the  Missionary  Eeports  gave  a  character  of  their 
own  to  the  whole  proceedings.  The  House  was  filled 
to  overflowing  when  he  was  expected  to  speak ;  and 
his  appeals,  burning  with  courage,  and  zeal,  and  hope- 
fulness, not  only  imparted  new  life  to  the  Assembly, 
but  increased  the  influence  of  the  Church  in  the 
country. 

In  the  Assembly  of  1854  he  first  took  a  decided 
stand  against  the  party  which  had  ruled  the  policy 
of  the  Church  for  several  years,  and  which  had  served 
in  no  small  measure  to  alienate  from  her  the  sym- 
pathy of  the  nation  by  the  persistency  with  which  it 
opposed  every  public  measure,  however  reasonable, 
that  seemed  to  threaten  any  of  her  ancient  prero- 
gatives. The  recent  repeal  of  the  Tests  which  had 
hitherto  been  imposed  on  the  professors  of  the  Scotch 
Universities — who,  on  admission  to  ofiice,  were  re- 
quired to  sign  the  Confession  of  Faith,  and  sub- 
scribe the  formula  of  the  Church  of  Scotland — was 
now  hotly  discussed  in  the  Assembly.  The  wiser 
leaders,  while  regretting  the  sv/eeping  nature  of  the 
change,  were  prepared  'to  accept  the  inevitable,' 
and  made  a  stand  against  the  section  of  extreme 
Conservatives,  who  not  only  wished  to  protest  anew, 
but  even  proposed  to  form  a  new  Universitj^  in  con- 
nection with  the  Church.  Norman  Macleod  had  too 
much  common  sense  not  to  perceive  the  folly  of 
resisting  changes  which  the  altered  condition  of  the 
country  rendered  necessary,  and  gave  expression  to 
his  views  in  a  manner  which  startled  both  sides 
of  the  House,  and  which  rang  through  the  country 


30  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

as  the  tokon  of  an  unexpectedly  liberal  spirit  rising 
in  the  Church. 

"  A  groat  (leal  had  been  said  about  expediency,  about 
the  tremendous  danger  of  vacillation,  and  the  iuiinense 
importance  of  what  was  called  standing  by  their  prin- 
ciples. It  appeared  to  him  that  one  of  the  greatest 
mistakes  made  by  the  Church  of  Scotland  was  constantly 
elevating  things  which  Avere  out-and-out  niatters  of  expe- 
diency, and  maintaining  that  th^y  were  eternal  principles. 
There  were  certain  things  that  could  never  change.  The 
eternal  truth  revealed  by  the  living  God  was,  from  genera- 
tion to  generation,  without  change.  But  there  were  things 
that  were  flexible,  and  ought  to  be  so  ;  and  the  great 
error  of  the  Church  of  Scotland  had  ever  been  the 
assuming  of  an  attitude  which  was  said  to  be  one  of 
j^rinciple,  and  injury  after  injury  had  been  done  to  the 
Church,  not  because  she  would  not  sacrifice  her  principles, 
but  because  she  would  not  modify  her  institutions  to  suit 
the  times.  Instead  of  doing  this,  she  had  resisted  every 
change,  and  this  had  been  the  source  of  almost  all  the 
misfortunes  which  had  ever  befallen  her.  For  one  evil 
that  could  be  j)ointed  out  arising  from  a  wise  and  judicious 
yielding  to  the  times,  he  would  point  out  scores  of  instances, 
down  to  1843,  from  which  she  had  suffered  from  stub- 
bornly standing  on  pin-points  called  principles. 

"  ....  It  Avas  proposed  to  go  to  the  country  for 
money  to  build  a  new  College.  He  objected  to  that  out- 
and-out.  He  objected  to  the  national  Church  throwing 
herself  loose  from  the  national  Universities,  and  sinkinjr 
down  to  the  position  of  a  mere  sect,  and  handing  over  the 
Universities  to  other  parties.  He  warned  them  that  if 
there  issued  from  this  House  opinions  which  obtained  no 
sympathy  in  the  country,  instead  of  gaining  a  hold  on  the 
affections  of  the  pco})le,  they  would  come  to  have  no  more 
influence  on  the  nation  than  the  weather-cock  on  the  top 
of  the  steeple  affected  the  people  passing  in  the  street. 
Let  them  try  to  educate  the  country  u[)  to  their  prineii)les 
b(!ft)re  thi^y  ])roposod  to  them  things  in  which  the  country 
had  no  sympathy. 


1851—1856.  3> 

"  ....  He  thought  it  only  fair  to  say  that  he 
(lid  not  know  of  a  single  measure  that  had  been  passed  by 
the  Legislature  which  he  would  Avish  to  see  reversed — 
neither  the  Emancipation  Bill,  nor  the  Reform  Bill,  nor 
the  Corn-law  Bill,  nor  the  University  Tests  Bill,  nor  any 
other  Bill. 

"  He  was  one  of  those,  moreover,  who  believed  that  the 
Legislature  had  a  perfect  right  to  modify  such  institutions 
as  the  Universities  to  meet  the  wants  of  the  age.  He 
^vas  one  of  those  who  believed  it  w^as  a  fair  and  a  right 
thinof  that  men  who  did  not  belono-  to  the  Church  of 
Scotland,  but  who,  like  her,  held  Protestant  princij^les, 
should  be  permitted  to  teach  in  these  lay  chairs.  He 
therefore  wanted  a  Test,  certainly,  and  so  far  he  differed 
from  the  late  Act  ;  but  he  did  not  want  such  a  Test  as 
was  desired  by  his  fathers  and  brethren  who  formed  the 
majority  of  the  Church  ;  nay,  perhaps  he  ought  to  confess 
that  he  was  so  very  heterodox,  that  he  should  not  have 
started,  or  thought  the  world  was  coming  to  an  end,  even 
if  it  had  been  proposed  to  place  a  Jesuit  in  a  Medical 
Chair,  and  on  this  simple  ground,  that  if  his  limb  were  to 
be  operated  on,  he  should  prefer  a  skilful  Jesuit  to  an 
unskilful  Protestant.  He  would  rather  have  a  man  to  do 
it  well  who  sympathised  with  the  Council  of  Trent,  than  a 
man  to  do  it  ill  who  believed  in  the  Westminster  Confes- 
sion ;  and  he  rather  thought  the  great  majority  of  the 
House  would,  in  such  a  situation,  act  on  the  same  prin- 
ciples. He  saw  no  reason  why  such  men  should  not  teach 
others  to  do  well  what  they  did  so  well  themselves.  But 
at  the  same  time,  he  did  desire  that  there  should  be  a 
Test  of  some  kind,  and  was  very  far  from  speaking  lightly 
of  the  differences  which  separated  them  from  Rome." 

To  the  Eev.  Thomas  Gordon,  Newbattle  : — 

"VTOODLANDS  TerEACE. 

"...  Act  of  security  !  It  might  as  well  secure  horse- 
power versus  steam  to  all  generations  as  secure  anything 
which  cannot  be  secured  on  its  own  footing — i.e.,  because 
it  is  worth  securing.  The  only  acts  which  have  any 
security  for  resisting  modern  changes   are    the    Acts  of 


32  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

the    Apostles — and    they    will    defy    either    Strauss     or 
Wiseman." 

To  Rev.  A.  CLEnic,  LL.D.  : — 

June.  18d4. 

"Tlie  General  Assembly  was  a  Dead  Sea  of  common- 
places— flat,  stale,  and  unprofitable.  Not  one  flash  of 
any  idea  or  sentiment  to  rouse  a  noble  passion  in  the  soul. 
The  Tests  were  of  course  carried  by  a  large  majority.  I 
think  the  church  is  a  poor  affiiir  at  present,  but  has  got  a 
calling  for  the  good  of  this  land  and  of  Christendom,  which 
she  alone  can  execute  if  she  would  1 " 

To  Lis  Mother,  on  his  birtMay  : — 

June,  1854. 

"  Well,  dear,  it  was  a  noble  Assembly,  and  God  enabled 
me  to  do  what  I  have  every  reason  to  believe  was  a 
needful  and  good  w^ork  in  it.  I  sought  His  aid,  and  He 
gave  it  to  me.  I  was  greatly  solemnised,  I  assure  you. 
The  reports  give  you  a  poor  idea  of  what  I  said.  Each 
speech  was  about  forty  minutes,  and  nothing  could  exceed 
the  cordial  manner  in  which  it  was  received. 

"  Forty-three  years  since,  I  lay  on  your  knee,  the  object- 
of  a  love  that,  as  I  have  often  said,  is  Hker  the  love  of  God 
than  any  other,  and  which,  in  your  case,  dearest,  has  been 
as  deep,  constant,  and  unwearied  as  ever  existed  in  any 
human  bosom.  I  am  not  one  of  those  who  sigh  for  the 
past  and  fear  the  future.  My  motto  is  not  '  backwards,' 
but  '  forwards,' — on  and  on,  for  ever  !  I  wish  no  year 
recalled,  unless  I  had  more  grace  with  it  to  make  it  better 
and  to  improve  it  more   for  God's  glory. 

"  '  One  generation  cometh,  and  another  goeth.'  But  I 
cannot  wish  more  for  my  boy  on  earth  than  that  he  should 
at  forty-three  have  parents  spared  to  him  to  be  such  a 
source  of  happiness  to  him  as  mine  are  to  me.  God 
bless  you  both  for  all  you  have  been  and  are." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  June  3. — I  this  day  enter  my  forty-third  year.  1 
feel  how  much  of  my  life  is  passed,  and  slowly  but  surely 


i8si — 1856.  33 

the  force  that  is  in  me  to  do  Christ's  work  will  begin  to 
decline. 

"  Oh,  my  God,  I  have  not  hid  my  daily  shortcomings  from 
Thee.  Thou  hast  forgiven  me  in  Christ.  My  Father,  never 
let  me  be  without  the  indwelling  of  Thy  Spirit  for  an  hour, 
for  it  would  be  an  hour  of  dreadful  horror.  Let  my  life 
be  every  day  more  unconscious  of  my  OAvn  presence  and 
more  conscious  of  Thine.  Make  me  an  instrument  in 
Thy  hands  for  advancing  Thy  kingdom,  reviving  the 
Church  of  Scotland,  and  for  uniting  all  Christians  in  this 
land. 

"  One  man,  0  Lord,  lifts  up  his  voice  and  praises  Thee 
that  he  has  been  born,  because  he  knows  Thee  and  Jesus 
Christ  Whom  Thou  hast  sent,  and  knows  that,  while  no 
man  on  earth  deserves  it,  this  is  eternal  life  ! 

"July  23,  1854. — With  the  exception  of  the  preface, 
the  Life  is  finished  and  printed.      Glory  to  God  ! 

When  I  went  to  see  John,  I  put  the  question,  '  What 
shall  be  the  end  thereof  ? '  How  much  has  been  seen  of 
the  end  already ! 

"  It  was  a  strange  feeling,  to  end  a  work  which  had 
given  me  his  companionship  for  so  long  a  time.  It  seemed 
like  a  second  death  ! 

"  Thank  God  I  have  been  enabled  to  write  a  biography 
without  one  word  of  untruth  or  exaggeration  in  it,  as  far 
as  I  know.  It  may  not  say  enough,  or  go  far  enough,  but 
all  it  says  is  true  ;  as  far  as  it  goes,  it  is  true. 

"  Does  my  dear  friend  know  this  is  done  ?  I  believe 
he  does,  and  that  as  far  as  it  is  true,  and  tends  to  glorily 
his  Master  in  whose  presence  he  is,  and  who  is  his  all  in 
all,  so  far  he  rejoices  in  it,  so  I  add  to  his  joy.  What  a 
delightful  thought !  For  surely  if  he  knows  that  his  life 
has  not  been  so  unfinished  as  it  seemed  to  have  been,  that 
he  is  by  these  memorials  enabled  to  advance  that  kingdom 
much  more  than  he  could  have  done  had  he  been  spared 
to  labour  as  a  minister,  surely  this  will  fill  him  with 
deeper  love  to  Jesus,  and  a  profounder  admiration  of  His 
love  and  wisdom,  and  so  increase  his  own  joy. 

"  What  an  infant  in  spiritual  growth  am  I  to  him  ! 
But   let  his  bright   and   beautiful  example   not  cast  me 

VOL.    II.  D 


34  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  ]\fACLEOD. 

down,  but  lift  nie  up  and  stimulate  me  to  labour  more  for 
Christ,  .and  not  to  be  slothful,  but  through  faith  and 
patience  to  follow  him,  even  as  he  followed  his  Lord. 

" .  .  .  .  How  strange  that  as  yet  my  child  knows  not 
God  !  I  have  resolved  tliat  she  shall  not  hear  His  name  till 
she  has  language  to  apprehend  what  I  mean,  and  that  no  one 
shall  speak  of  God  to  her  till  I  do  so.  This  is  a  moment 
in  her  life  which  I  claim  as  my  own.  I  shall  have  the 
bles.sedness  of  Hrst  telling  her  of  Him  who  I  trust  (Oh,  ni}' 
Fathei^  for  Christ's  sake  let  it  be — oh,  let  it !)  shall  be 
her  all  in  all  for  ever  after.  For  a  time  I  nuist  be  to 
lier  as  God  :  His  shadow,  His  representative  and  her  father 
on  earth  shall  lead  her  to  Thee,  her  Father  and  mine. 

"  Another  system  than  this  I  know  is  generally  pur- 
sued, and  much  is  thought  to  be  gained  by  cramming  a 
child  with  holy  words  before  it  can  hardly  lisp  them.      I 

heard  last  week  of 's  boy  saying  to  some  one,    '  I 

don't  like  God,  for  He  sends  rain.'  This  was  quite  natural, 
but  what  is  gained  by  such  instruction  ? " 


To  the  late  Mrs.  Macbedie,  Adamton  :— 

"  My  dear  Madam, — 

"  I  make  it  a  rule  never  to  pen  a  letter  except 
upon  great  occasions,  or  to  remarkable  persons.  The  last 
I  wrote  w\as  on  the  great  occasion  of  a  Free  Church 
minister  bowing  to  an  Erastian  ;  and  one  also  to  my  wife, 
■when  she  did  implicitly  what  I  commanded  her. 

"  1  take  up  my  pen  once  more.  I  need  not  say  the 
dignity  of  the  person  to  whom  I  wTite  is  a  sufficient  proof 
that  I  do  not  break  through  my  rule.  But  the  occasion 
is     still    more    remarkable.       What    is    it  ?       What    has 

y  happened  in  the  political,  literary,  or  religious  world  ?  Is 
Sebastopol  taken  ?  or  is  the  Irish  Society  defunct  ?  Has 
the  Pope  asked   AFiss in  marriage  ?      Is  the  Czar  to 

be  the  Commissioner  of  next  Assembly  ?  Is  Omer  Pasha 
to  be  member  for  Ayrshire  ?  Any  or  all  of  those  suppo- 
sitions wotdd  be  nothing  to  the  news  I  have  to  tell  you. 
I  assure  you,  nothing!  Now,  I  would  tell  you  at  once, 
but  I  don't  want  to  give  you  a  shock ;  for  I  was  told  to 


1851 — 1856.  35 

be  cautious,  and  not  to  alarm  you,  but  to  break  the  in- 
telligence quietly  to  you,  and  to  take  you,  as  it  Avere, 
round  the  neck  and  breathe  the  thing  in  j^our  ear.  Be- 
sides, when  one  is  happy — Oh !  you  see  it,  do  you  ^ 
'  Another  son  ? '  My  dear  lady,  you  shock  me  !  What  I 
wish  to  say  to  you  is  this — for  I  am  sorry  that  I  am  in  a 
hurry,  and  cannot  possibly  write  so  fully  as  I  would  wish, 
and  therefore  must  be  much  more  abrupt  than  is  proper 
for  one  in  your  delicate  health  (though  I  find  that  such 
persons  always  live  to  an  immense  age)  and  so  I  must  just 
tell  you  at  once  that — hush  now,  quietly,  and  don't  get 
agitated.  Believe  me,  you  Avill  survive  it — softly,  and 
slowly. 

"  Your  daughter,  Mrs.  Dennistoun,  remains  with  us 
from  Friday  till  Monday,  and  I  promised  to  write  to  you. 
That's  all." 


To  Thomas  Constable,  Esq.  : — 

July  I8th,  1854. 

"  I  have  always  addressed  you  more  as  the  friend  of 
John  Mackintosh  than  as  the  publisher  of  the  memorials 
of  his  life.  As  such  you  will  be  glad  to  receive  the  con- 
clusion of  the  last  chapter,  which  I  send  by  this  post. 

"  I  have  been  wanting  these  latter  pages  since  early 
dawn  ;  and  deeply  aftecting  though  they  be,  I  cannot 
think  they  will  cost  my  readers  as  many  tears  as  they  have 
cost  me  while  j^enning  them.  I  feel  concluding  this 
book  as  a  positive  loss  to  myself.  It  is  like  a  second 
death  and  burial.  It  was  never  a  weariness,  but  a  delight 
to  me.  I  fear  that  I  have  failed  to  convey  but  a  very 
feeble  impression  of  those  days  at  Cannstadt.  I  wish  it 
had  been  possible  for  me  to  have  said  less,  and  to  have 
permitted  him  to  say  more  ;  yet  I  cannot  think  any  one 
will  fail  to  discover  in  all  I  have  written  the  details  of  a 
true  story  of  one  of  the  truest  men  that  ever  blessed  the 
earth  by  his  presence.  For  myself,  I  return  my  most 
hearty  thanks  to  Almighty  God  for  having  honoured  me 
so  far  as  to  have  permitted  these  hands  of  mine  to  erect 
this  memorial  of  my  beloved  friend  for  the  good  of  the 

D  2 


36  LIFE  OF  NOR^rAN  MACLEOD, 

Church  and  of  tlie  world.  Many  will  think  the  work  a 
small  one  in  this  world  of  many  works  and  great  teachers, 
but  had  I  done  nothing  more  than  accomplish  this  one 
alone,  I  should  feel  that  I  had  not  been  born  in  vain,  and 
that  it  was  worth  living  for.  It  has  been  begun,  carried 
on,  and  ended  in  prayer ;  and  with  the  sincere  desire, 
rfbove  all  others,  that  in  him  his  Lord  may  be  glorified. 

"  You  know  that  I  refuse  all  fee  and  reward  for  this 
book,  in  the  shape  of  money.  Love  is  its  own  reward, 
but  I  hope  to  receive  an  immense  return  for  my  little 
labour  in  hearing  from  time  to  time  that  the  character  of 
my  dear  friend  is  being  better  known  and  loved,  and  his 
example  followed  by  many  to  the  glory  of  God." 


From  his  JoTJRNAii : — 

"  September. — I  visited  Geddes  last  month,  and  I  feel 
that  I  have  got  a  tchiff  of  the  same  kind  of  air  John 
breathed  there.  How  strange  !  Kate  and  I  both  opened 
the  first  copy  of  the  Memoir  there  !  and  that  on  the  day 
after  the  anniversary  of  our  marriage.  We  saAV,  too,  old 
Saunders  Rose,  still  alive  and  Avell  and  holy  ;  and  I  held 
a  prayer-meeting  in  the  old  place  where  John  used  to  hold 
his,  at  Burnside. 

"  It  Avas  altogether  delightful.  And  then  Loch  Shiel, 
John  Shairp  and  his  wife,  and  the  Communion  at  Kilmallie 
together  !     The  Lord  be  praised  !  " 


When  he  undertook  the  congenial  task  of  writing 
the  life  of  his  dear  friend,  he  determined  that  it  should 
he  wholly  a  labour  of  love,  and  with  the  hearty  consent 
of  his  mother-in-law,  Mrs.  Mackintosh,  he  resolved  to 
devote  whatever  profit  might  accrue  from  the  sale  of 
the  Memoir  to  the  Foreign  mission  of  the  Free  Cliurch. 
Mackintosh  had  been  a  Free  Church  student,  and  the 
book  was  virtually  his,  and  thus  not  only  under  a 
sense   of  the   propriety   of    the   act,    but    delighted 


1851 — 1856.  37 

at  the  opportunity  of  giving  expression  to  those 
feelings  of  good-will  which  he  entertained  for  the 
missionary  labour  of  all  Churches,  and  especially  of 
that  Church  which,  in  spite  of  recent  controversies 
and  separations,  was  yet  nearest  his  own  in  doctrine 
and  government,  he  forwarded  with  sincere  pleasure 
£200  to  her  Indian  Missions.  The  Free  Church 
Assembly  took  the  earliest  opportunity  of  recording 
its  thaniis,  which  were  embodied  in  the  following 
minute : — 

"In  acknowledging  receipt  from  the  biographer  and 
representatives  of  the  late  John  Mackintosh  of  £200 — 
the  entire  profit  derived  from  the  sale  of  his  Memoir — the 
Assembly  desires  to  record  its  deep  and  grateful  sense  of 
the  faithful  and  graceful  manner  in  which  the  Memoir  has 
been  written,  of  the  loss  which  this  Church  has  sustained 
in  his  premature  removal,  and  of  the  considerate  regard 
to  his  memory  which  has  prompted  this  generous  dona- 
tion, and  they  instruct  their  Convener  to  communicate 
the  same  to  Mrs.  Macldntosh  and  the  Rev.  Norman 
Macleod."* 


To  Mrs.  Macleod  : — 

KiRKALDY,  Od.  2,  1854. 

"  Kiss  my  boy  for  me  on  his  birth-day,  and  pray  with 
me  for  him,  that  whatever  else  he  is  he  may  be  a  child  of 
God. 

"  Please — for  there  is  a  domestic  propriety  which  is  a 
gentile  court  to  religion — have  my  father  or  George,  or  both, 

♦  In  forwarding  this  extract  of  minutes,  the  Convener,  the  Lite 
Dr.  Tweedie,  kindly  expressed  his  own  sense  of  the  catholicity  of 
spirit -which  had  dictated  the  act: — "It  supplies  in  some  measure  a 
presage  of  what  will  take  place  when  external  barriers  shall  be 
removed,  and  when  all  who  love  the  Lord  Jesus  shall  be  verily  one  in 
spirit  and  in  truth." 


38  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

to  dinner,  and  drink  ni}'  boy's  health  in  a  good  bottle  of 
cliani})agne,  with  all  the  honours. 

"  Glorious  news  this  of  Sebastojjol  !     A  great  opening 
for  the  gospel." 


To  Mrs.  MACLEOD : — 


Ceatuie,  0•^,  1854. 


"  This  has  been  a  heavenly  day  of  beauty — the  sky 
almost  cloudless  ;  the  stones  on  the  hill  side  so  distinct 
that  they  might  be  counted  ;  the  Dee  swmging  past  with 
its  deep-toned  murmur. 

"  I  preached  without  a  note  the  same  sermon  I  preached 
at  Morven  ;  *  and  I  never  looked  once  at  the  royal  seat,  but 
solely  at  the  congregation.  I  tried  to  forget  the  great  ones 
I  saw,  and  to  remember  the  great  Ones  I  saw  not,  and  so  I 
preached  from  my  heart,  and  with  as  much  freedom,  really, 
as  at  a  mission  station. 

"  And  so  the  day  has  ended,  for  the  present.  The  Lord 
brought  me  here.  He  has  heard  my  prayer,  and  sustained 
my  heart,  and  enabled  me  to  do  His  will.  And  now  I 
pray  that  this  talent,  given  me  in  love,  may  be  for  His 
glorjr. 

"  Kiss  the  bairns,  thank  God  for  me,  and  in  after 
years  teach  your  boy  this  lesson — not  to  seek  his  work, 

*  It  is  interestingr  to  compnro  with  this  the  touching  notice  of  the 
service  recorded  by  Her  Majesty  : — 

October  29,  ISS-J. 
"We  went  to  kirk  as  usual  at  twelve  o'clock.  The  service  was 
performed  by  the  Rev.  Norman  MLeod,  of  Glasgow,  son  of  Dr. 
M'Leod,  and  anything  finer  I  never  heard.  The  sermon,  entirely 
extempore,  was  quite  admirable,  so  simple,  and  yet  so  eloquent,  and 
80  beautifully  argued  and  put.  Mr.  M'I.eod  showed  in  the  sermon 
how  we  all  tried  to  please  se//,  and  live  for  t}iat,  and  in  so  doing  found 
no  rest.  Christ  had  come  not  only  to  die  for  us,  but  to  show  how  we 
were  to  live.  The  second  prayer  was  very  touching ;  his  allusions 
to  us  were  so  simple,  saying,  after  his  mention  of  us,  '  bless  their 
children.'  It  gave  me  a  lump  in  my  throat,  as  also  when  ho  prayed 
for  '  the  dying,  the  wounded,  the  widow,  and  the  orjihans.'  Every 
one  came  back  delighted ;  and  how  satisfactory  it  is  to  come  back 
from  church  witli  such  f<"olings  !  The  servants  and  the  Highlandera 
—all — were  eqiuilly  delighted." 


1851  — 1856.  39 

but  to  receive   it  when  given  him,  and  to  do  it  to  God 
•without  fear." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  Retrospect. — I  had  received  an  invitation  to  preach 
at  Crathie  when  I  was  at  Kirkaldy.  I  refused  to  go.  I 
had  announced  the  opening  of  my  church,  after  it  had 
been  closed  for  two  months  to  be  repaired,  and  it  seemed 
to  me  that  my  duty  to  open  it  was  greater  than  to  accept 
of  Mr.  Anderson's  invitation  to  preach  before  the  Queen. 
The  going  there,  therefore,  was  not  sought  for  by  me.  1 
returned  home  at  eight  Thursday  night,  and  found  a  letter 
from  Mr.  A.,  stating  that  he  asked  me  at  the  Queen's  own 
recjuest.  My  duty  being  clear,  I  accepted  it.  The  weather 
was  superb,  and  I  was  much  struck  with  tlie  style  of  the 
scenery.  I  have  never  seen  Ross-shire,  but  I  see  a  marked 
difference  between  the  Highlands  of  Morayshire  and  Aber- 
deenshire and  the  West  Highlands,  especially  in  the  glens, 
and  the  large,  full-flowing  rivers,  such  as  the  Spey,  the  Find- 
horn,  and  the  Dee,  which  sweep  so  majestically  through 
them,  with  abundance  of  elbow  room,  and  not  cram})ed  by 
slate  and  oranite  into  raofinQ^,  roarins^  streams.  And  then  the 
decided  marks  of  culture  in  the  valleys — the  broad  planta- 
tions, the  green  fields,  and  the  stately  homes  of  a  wealthy 
aristocracy,  and— that  I  do  not  forget  it, — the  colouring 
of  the  floors  of  the  woods  !  No  long,  damp  grass,  but 
the  glorious  mosses,  rich  and  golden,  illumined  by  the 
fiery  heather  bell. 

"  The  Sunday  at  Balmoral  was  perfect  in  its  peace  and 
beauty.  I  confess  that  I  was  much  puzzled  what  to 
preach.  I  had  with  me  some  of  my  best  sermons  (as 
people  would  call  them)  ;  but  the  struggle  which  had  be- 
gun on  Friday  mornmg  was  renewed — as  to  Avhat  was  best 
in  the  truest,  most  spiritual  sense  for  such  an  occasion  ; 
until,  by  prayer,  I  resolved  to  preach  without  any  notes  a 
sermon  I  never  wrote  fully  out,  but  had  jjreached  very 
oiten,  perhaps  fifteen  times,  solely  because  I  found  that  it 
had  found  human  spirits,  and  had  done  good.  It  Avas  from 
;Matt.  xi.  28-30,  Mark  x.  17-31.  I  tried  to  show  Avhat 
true  life  is — life  in  the  spirit — a  finding  rest  through  the 


40  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

yoke  of  God's  service,  instead  of  the  service  of  self,  and 
by  tlie  cross  of  self-denial,  instead  of  self-gratification, 
ilftistrated  by  the  young  man  who,  with  all  that  was  ho 
promising,  would  not  peril  his  happiness  by  seeking  it  with 
Christ  in  God. 

"  I  preached  with  intense  comfort,  and  by  God's  help 
felt  how  sublime  a  thing  it  was  to  be  His  ambassador.  I 
felt  very  acutely  how  for  our  sakcs  the  Queen  and  the 
Prince  were  placed  in  so  trying  a  position,  and  was  pro- 
foundly grateful  for  the  way  in  Avhich  they  hod  governed 
us;  and  so  it  was  that  I  was  able  to  look  back  from  the 
future,  and  to  speak  as  I  shall  wish  I  had  done.  It  would 
be  most  ungrateful  in  me  not  to  record  this  singular  mercy 
of  God  to  me  ;  for  I  do  know,  and  rejoice  to  record  for  the 
strengthening  of  my  laith  in  prayer,  that  He  did  it. 
Thus  I  enjoyed  great  peace. 

"  In  the  evening,  after  daundering  in  a  gi-een  field  with 
a  path  through  it  which  led  to  the  high  road,  and  while 
sitting  on  a  block  of  granite,  full  of  quiet  thoughts,- 
mentally  reposing  in  the  midst  of  the  beautiful  scenery,  I 
was  roused  €rom  my  reverie  by  some  one  asking  me  if  I 
was  the  clergyman  who  had  preached  that  day.  I  Avas  soon 
in  the  jiresence  of  the  Queen  and  Prince  ;  when  her 
Majesty  came  forward  and  said  Avith  a  sweet,  kind,  and 
smiling  face,  '  We  wish  to  thank  you  for  your  sermon.' 
She  then  asked  me  how  my  father  *  Avas — v.hat  was  tlie 
name  of  my  parish,  &c. ;  and  so,  after  bowing  and  smiling, 
they  both  continued  their  quiet  evening  walk  alone.  And 
thus  God  blessed  me,  and  I  thanked  His  name.  I  posted 
home  by  Glenshee — not  well — and  was  in  bed  all  the 
week.  So  ends  my  story.  I  read  its  commencement  and 
ending  to  remind  me  how  God  is  always  faithful.  '  0  ye 
of  little  faith,  wherefore  did  ye  doubt  ?  '  " 

To  tlio  Eev.  Mr.  "Watson,  Chaplain  in  the  Crimea : — 

"  God  bless  and  prosper  you  in  your  Avork.  I  almost 
envy  you,  dangerous  though  it  be.      I  have  such  immense 

*  His  father  had  preached   bjfore  Ilor  Mijosty   and   the   Princo 
Consort  at  Blair  Athol  on  the  occasion  of  their  hrst  visit  to  Scotland. 


185'  — 18;6.  41 

admiration  of  those  glorious  follows  that  T  would  rejoice 
to  be  with  them.  It  is  right  and  becoming,  too,  that 
those  who  are  soldiers  only  of  Christ  should  share  their 
danger,  so  as  to  help  them  to  share  with  us  the  life  which 
is  eternal.  We  should  not  shrink  at  such  a  time,  if  God 
calls  us  to  this  work.  No  doubt  you  have  made  up  your 
mind  to  die,  and  this  is  the  true  way  of  being  brave  and  of 
finding  perfect  peace." 


From  his  Journal  : — 

"  January  1,  1855,  7  A.M. — In  the  name  of  God  the 
Father,  Son,  and  Spirit,  my  God,  I  begin  the  year  !  I 
am  Thine  by  creation  and  redemption,  and  b^^  choice  on 
my  part ;  I  am  Thine  for  ever,  and  I  desire  to  consecrate 
every  power  and  faculty  of  body  and  soul  to  Thy  service 
— knowing  Thee,  the  ever-blessed  One,  Whose  service  is 
unutterable  joy.  To  know  Thee  truly  in  any  degree  is 
joy  unspeakable,  and  full  of  glory.      Amen  ! 

"  The  year  '  5  5  promises  to  be  a  very  solemn  one. 
What  battles  and  victories,  defeats  and  sufferings !  What 
brave  and  illustrious  men,  afterwards  to  be  the  Nelsons 
and  Wellingtons  of  Britain,  or  the  Napoleons  of  France — ■ 
are  now  in  embryo  !  That  civilisation,  liberty,  religion, 
peace  will  triumph,  is  of  course  as  certain  as  that  Jesus 
Christ  reigns  !      He  does  reign — what  a  source  of  joy  ! 

"  I  have  established  a  mission  to  the  hospital  at  Scutari, 
and  am  acting  as  secretary  to  it. 

"Jan.  12th. — Nothing  can  exceed  the  present  com- 
plexity of  the  politics  of  the  world.  This  war  is  drawing 
all  nations  slowly  into  it  like  a  huge  maelstrom  ;  and  on 
what  side,  or  with  what  damage,  they  are  to  be  hurled  out 
of  the  maelstrom,  the  Lord  knoweth  !  America  sympa- 
thises with  Russia,  solely  because  Russia  opens  up  pros- 
pects of  trade  directly  and  indirectly,  and  is  the  enemy 
of  her  British  rival — for  the  Yankees  have  concentrated 
all  greatness  in  the  dollar.  Rome  is  against  Russia  on 
Church  grounds,  and  Britain  is  now  fighting  Rome's  cause 
with  France  and  Austria.  Prussia  holds  back.  Sardinia, 
becoming  Protestant,  comes  forward.      Turkey,  tottering  to 


+2  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

her  fall,  from  the  inherent  weakness  of  her  f^ilse  religious 
life,  is  in  vain  pro})pe<l  up  by  the  allies,  though  this  will 
make  her  fall  only  the  more  conspicuous,  and  show  God's 
judgment  on  a  lie. 

"  Peace !  It  seems  to  me  as  if  the  world  was  but 
mustering  its  forces  for  such  a  campaign  as  will  revolu- 
tionise it  and  somehow  usher  in  the  glory  of  the  latter 
days.  I  wish  I  could  see  the  end.  But  I  shall  know  it 
some  day." 


To  Mrs.  Dennistoun,  on  the  death  of  her  Aunt : — 

January  29,  18o5. 

"  How  could  that  life  have  been,  if  her  faith  in  Jesus 
was  not  faith  in  a  real  living  Person  ?  Could  a  mere 
delusion,  a  fanc}',  produce  such  a  result  of  character,  so 
true,  so  real,  so  deep,  so  long  preserved,  as  she  had  ? 
Impossible  !  and  therefore  one  reads  her  life  and  death 
as  a  living  Epistle,  which  speaks  of  the  power  of  a  living 
Saviour  to  keep  the  soul  ever  young,  and  ever  fresh,  in 
its  tendernesses  and  sympathies  ;  to  enable  one  down  to 
extreme  old  age  to  carry  about  with  them  the  dying  of 
the  Lord  Jesus  in  their  mortal  bodies,  that  so  the  life  of 
Jesus  might  be  manifested  in  them.  How  beautiful  was 
her  love,  how  enlarged,  beaming  from  that  bed  like 
sunlight,  on  every  one  and  every  thing  around.  I  would 
be  an  atheist  if  I  could  believe  such  a  light  could  set  for 
ever  in  darkness  !  It  cannot  be.  It  has  never  ceased, 
and  never  shall  cease,  to  shine  in  God's  own  sky." 


FroDi  his  Journal  : — 

"  March  ''Ind. — This  night  heard  of  the  death  of  the 
Czar  yesterday  in  St.  Petersburg.  How  the  news  will  run 
from  mouth  to  mouth,  and  for  one  true  mourner,  how 
many  millions  will  rejoice  ! 

"  There  he  lies,  the  giant  man — the  '  every  inch  a  king." 
Silent  and  dead  as  the  marble  of  his  palace. 

"  What  sliiill  be   the  elVeet  ?      Peace  ?  or,  as  I  hrVioxo 


1851  — 1856.  43 

a  European  blaze,  and  the  ultimate  freedom  of  the 
world  ? 

"  The  word  of  the  Lord  endureth  for  ever  ! 

"April  27th. — I  leave  this  day  for  Edinburgh  Com- 
munion, London  Bible  Society,  Holland,  and,  D.  V.,  home. 

"  I  have  had  a  healthy,  happy  and  busy  winter,  and 
require  some  breathing  time.  May  God  in  mercy  sanctify 
it  foi  my  good,  bring  me  home  stronger  in  soul  and 
body." 

To  Mrs.  Macleod  : — 

London,  Mai/  2,  1855. 

"  I  had  a  jolly    sleep   beside    C ,    who    evidently 

dreamt  he  was  a  Highland  terrier  worrying  anotlier,  from 
the   barks   which   he   gave   in  his   sleep.     The   snores   oi 

M were  quite  orthodox.     They  were  rather  too  bai-c- 

faced  a  copy  of  those  of  his  congregation.  I  never  closed 
an  eye,  of  course  !  Poor  fellow !  But  I  meditated  so 
profitably  that  I  counted  only  two  towns  on  the  way — ■ 
Newcastle  and  York." 

To  the  Same  : — 

London. 

"  Dined   at  's.     There   was   a  party  of   eight   or 

nine.  Most  of  them  English  parsons,  with  the  usual 
amount  of  thoroughly  correct  manners,  large  hearts, 
middling  heads,  and  knowing  nothing  of  Scotland  exce})t 
as  a  place  in  the  Islands  from  which  grouse  come.  But 
really  '  very  nice — you  Ivnow.'  " 

To  the  Same  :— 

Antwerp,  May  4,  11  p.m. 
"  Enjoyed  Bruges,  and  reached  Ghent  at  2.  (O 
those  glorious  chimes  of  the  old  cathedral  !)  Saw  the 
fine  Cathedral  and  Van  Eyck's  delightful  picture.  0  what 
truth  !  what  a  love  of  nature  !  what  a  taste  for  beauty  had 
the  Memlmgs  and  Van  Eycks  !  Some  of  the  peeps  througli 
Avindows  by  the  former  and  his  minute  painting  of  flowers 
and  trees   so   delicious  !      In  Poussin's  famous  painting  of 


4f  Liri:  OF  NURMAX  MACLEOD. 

'  Christ   in   tlie   midst   of    the   Doctors,'    sneli    a   head    of 
Charles  V.  is  introduced,  and  of  the  Duke  of  Alva  !" 

To  the  Same  : — 

TnE  HaGITE,  Tuesdiiy  Mominrj. 

"  I  have  seen  great  paintings,  but  no  great  men. 

"  I  liave  received  much,  very  much  kindness  from  the 
Van  Loons  and  others,  and  I  hope  to  meet  as  mucli  more 
at  Leyden  and  Amsterdam. 

"  The  royal  family  were  all  in  church,  hearing  dear 
Boucher,  on  Sabbath.  The  King  was  heard  saying  to  his 
sister,  when  he  went  out,  '  How  sublime  !  I  never  heard 
anything  like  it.'  '  Nor  I,'  replied  the  sister,  '  but  I  have 
no  words  to  utter  what  I  feel.'  It  was  indeed  a  noble 
discourse." 


From  his  Jottrnal  : — 

"June  Srd,  1  v55. — I  am  forty-four.  I  preached  on 
the  birth  of  a  child  being  a  legitimate  cause  of  joy.'" 

"  Glory  to  God  that  I  have  been  born  !  I  ])raise  Him 
and  bless  Him  for  the  gift  of  existence  in  a  world  in  which 
His  own  Son  has  been  bom  a  Saviour,  a  Brother,  and  in 
which  He  rules.  I  praise  Him,  I  bless  Him  for  such  a 
gift,  so  worthy  of  Himself. 

"  Oh  may  I  realise  His  purpose  more  and  more  by  being 
more  and  more  His  own  child  in  simplicity,  humility, 
faith,  love,  and  undivided  obedience !  Intense  life  in 
Christ  is  intense  joy. 

"  I  begin  this  week  to  visit  my  congregation  once  more. 
I  feel  that  personal  acquaintance  and  private  friendship 
must  be  the  foundation  of  public  good.  My  schools  are 
all  paid  for.  I  desire  to  dedicate  my  powers  with  more 
mtense  devotion  to  God. 

"  Jane  Sth. — This  day  I  heard  my  little  girl  mention, 
for  the  first  time,  the  name  of  God.  I  had  requested 
no  one  ever  to  speak  to  her  of  God  until  I  first  had  this 
honour,  but  the  new  servant  had  done  it ;  so  I  took  the 

*  rubli.slioil  iu  Oood  Words  for  1873. 


1851 — 1856.  45 

child  on  my  knee  (in  Bothwell,  where  we  are)  and  asked 
her  several  questions  as  to  who  made  her  and  everything, 
and  she  replied,  '  God.'  O  how  indescribably  strange 
and  blessed  to  my  ears  was  the  sound  !  It  cannot  cease 
for  ever  !  My  prayer,  my  daily  prayer  is  that  she  and  all 
my  dear  children  may  be  holy  from  their  infancy,  and 
grow  up  Christians.  This,  mdeed,  can  only  be  through 
the  Spirit  ;  but  surely  there  is  no  necessity  that  the}- 
should  grow  up  at  any  time  hating  God  !  Must  they  be  as 
devils  in  their  youth,  and  be  afterwards  converted  ?  God 
forbid  !  My  prayer  and  hope  is  that  they  shall  grow  up  in 
the  nurture  of  the  Lord,  and  be  His  own  dear  children  from 
their  infancj^  Why  not  love  Him  as  well  as  me,  their 
earthly  father  ?  Oh,  beloved  Saviour,  take  them  as  babes 
into  thine  own  arms,  and  bless  them  and  make  them  thine  ! 
May  they  never,  never  mention  the  name  of  God,  but  as 
that  of  a  Father. 

"  Lord  !  my  hope  is  in  Thee.  Let  me  not  be  put  to 
shame." 

To  his  Aunt,  Mrs.  Maxwell,  after  the  burial   of  her  husjsand   at 
Campsie : — 

Bothwell,  July  20,  1855. 

"  We  have  just  returned  from  that  green  spot  where 
are  gatherhig  the  earthly  remains  of  so  many  who  made 
the  earth  beautiful  to  us,  and  whose  undying  spirits  make 
Heaven  more  homely  to  us.  When  standing  there  it  was 
glorious  to  feel  that  we  could  not  sorrow  for  one  of  our 
own  there  as  '  without  hope,'  but  in  the  sure  and  certain 
hope  of  a  resurrection  unto  life  for  them  in  Christ.  How 
peacefully  did  he,  the  last  laid  there,  repose  after  his  long 
and  harassing  journey !  God  alone,  who  knew  his  frame,  and 
the  mysterious  influence  which  the  frail  body  so  mightily 
exercises  over  the  mind,  can  tell  what  a  life  struggle  he  had  ! 
But  he  fought,  and  that  was  everything  ;  and  I  heartily 
believe  that  he  is  now  in  His  presence  for  evermore,  with 
exceeding  joy  ;  and  few  there  will  cast  their  crowns  down 
with  more  exceeding  reverence,  humility,  and  awe,  and 
acknowledge  more  joyfully  the  exceeding  riches  of  the 
grace  of  Christ  bestowed  upon  him.      I   shall  take  good 


45  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  a/ACLEOD. 

care  tliat  my  cliildron  shall  Lear  of  tliose  uncles  and  aunts 
whom  we  all  so  much  loved  and  adininxl  -  of  their  refined 
and  exquisite  honour,  their  deep  and  touching  benevo- 
lence, their  tender  and  sym2)athising  liearts,  their  beautiful 
and  transparent  truthfulness,  and  admiration  of  all  that 
■\'as  really  good  and  true. 

"  In  a  few  years  that  spot  in  Campsie  will  be  full.  I 
hope  to  lie  there  with  my  wife,  and  possibly  my  family. 
*  Then  cometh  the  end.'  With  such  an  end  we  may  well 
pray,  '  Thy  kingdom  come,  Thy  will  be  done  on  earth  as 
it  is  in  heaven.'  " 


From  his  Jotjen^al  : — 

"August  21si,  1855. — T  start  this  day,  with  Dr.  Craik, 
for  the  Paris  Conference  of  the  Evangelical  Alliance.  I 
am  very  glad  to  do  so,  for  I  have  had  a  busy  summer. 

"  I  pray  that  good  may  come  to  the  Cluirch  of  Christ 
out  of  this  Conference  ;  that  God  may  give  us  all  humility, 
justice,  love,  and  wisdom.  Hay  I  be  kept  Avith  a  pure 
heart  and  single  eye,  speaking  the  truth  in  love,  fearing 
neithe»  the  world  profane  nor  the  world  religious,  but 
obeying  God's  Spirit. 

"  Lord  !  keep  my  beloved  ones  in  my  absence  ;  and 
keep  my  soul,  spirit  and  body,  for  Tli\-  glorious  and  eternal 
kinffdom  !" 


To  Mrs.  Macleod  : — 

Paris,  August,  1855. 

"Dinner  at  Herschell's  ;  Krummacher,  Count  St.  George, 
and  others  there.  Went  to  the  Exposition ;  the  finest 
collection  of  paintings  I  ever  saw.  The  heat  past  endu- 
rance ;  I  walk  twelve  miles  daily.  The  Alliance  of  no 
use ;  private  meetings  to-day  to  try  and  make  it  so. 
Heard  a  Puseyite  sermon ;  horrid  trash.  No  one  from 
Scotland  has  preached.  Bad  arrangements.  The  life 
spent  by  us  most  agreeable  and  most  useful  to  ourselves, 
but  utterly  useless  to  others,  except  tlie  cafes.  The  Queen 
left  to-day  ;  the  day  glorious,  the  scene  magnificent ;  felt 
my  heart  beat  in  hearing  '  God  save  the  Queen'  as  the 


1851  — 1856.  45 

grand  cortege  passed  along  tlie  Boulevards — she  looking 
so  well — the  Emperor  and  Prince  Albert  on  one  side,  and 
the  Queen  and  another  lady  on  the  other." 


From  his  Journal  :^ 

"October  \st,  1855. — Things  to  be  aimed  at  and  praycil 
for : — 

"1.  To  perfect  holiness.  Is  it  possible  that  I  shall 
habitually  possess  myself,  and  exercise  holy  watchfulness 
over  my  words  and  temper,  so  that  in  private  and  public  I 
shall  live  as  a  man  who  truly  realises  God's  constant 
presence — who  is  one  with  Christ,  and  therefore  lives  among 
men  and  acts  towards  them  with  His  mind  and  spirit  ? 
/,  meek,  hr>mble,  loving,  ever  by  my  life  drawing  men  to 
Christ — self  behind,  Christ  before  !  I  believe  this  to  be 
as  impossible  by  my  own  resolving  as  that  I  could  become 
a  Shakespear,  a  Newton,  a  Milton  ;  yet  if  God  calls  me 
to  this,  God  can  so  enable  me  to  realise  it  that  He  shall 
be  pleased  with  me.  But  will  I  really  strive  after  it  ? 
Oh,  my  Father !  see,  hear,  and  help  Thy  weak  and  perish- 
ing child  !  For  Christ's  sake,  put  strength  in  me  ;  fulfil 
in  me  the  good  pleasure  of  Thy  will.  Lord,  pity  me  and 
have  mercy  on  me,  that  I  may  famish  and  thirst  for 
Thee  and  perfect  holiness  ! 

"  2.  To  know  and  improve  every  talent  to  the  utmost, 
whether  in  preaching,  writing,  speaking,  acting.  I  feel 
convmced  that  every  man  has  given  him  of  God  much 
more  than  he  1  as  any  idea  of,  and  that  he  can  help  on 
the  world's  A\ork  m  re  than  he  knows  of.  What  we 
want  is  the  si  igle  eye  that  will  see  what  our  work  is,  the 
humiliiy  to  accept  it  however  lowly,  the  faith  to  do  it  for 
God,  the  perseverance  to  go  on  till  death. 

"  Wise  and  loving  Father !  Magnify  Thy  patience  in 
my  wilfulness  and  stupidity,  Thy  strength  in  my  weakness, 
Thy  mighty  grace  in  my  paltry  vanity,  Thy  love  in  my 
selfishness.  Let  not  the  fragments  of  my  poorly  educated 
mind  and  broken  time  be  lost,  but  glorify  Thyself  in  me, 
that  vhen  I  die  some  shall  feel  and  acknowledge  Thy 
goodness  in  having  created  me,  and  given  me  to  my  fellow 


+8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

men.  What  may  I  yet  be  and  do  in  Thee  !  Oh  J.  t  all 
Avorklly  ambition  bo  niortiHod,  and  a  holy  andjition  take 
its  place  ! 

"Have  been  seeing ;  just   dying  ;  full  of  anxiety 

for  his  soul  ;  deeply  feel  for  him.  Notice  !  how  that  one 
name  of  Jesus  is  all-in-all !  Men  may  argue  al)out  the 
Atonement  ;  but  the  fact  of  an  Atonement  alone  finds  and 
meets  a  sinner  crying  out  for  mercy.  What  can  j^hilosophy 
do  for  such,  or  an  atonement  of  mere  self-sacrifice  ?  It 
would  only  deepen  the  sense  of  sin. 

"  Oct.  30,  5g  P.M. — I  have  this  moment  finished  my 
little  book  on  the  Home  School.  I  have  made  it  a  subject 
of  constant  prayer,  and  have  sincerely  tried  to  write  what 
may  do  good  to  my  fellow-men.  I  believe  God  will  grant 
it  such  a  measure  of  success  that  I  shall  not  be  put  to 
shame.  I  do  crave  the  reward  of  its  helping  human 
hearts  to  do  God's  will.  If  I  am  taken  away,  I  feel  it 
will  be  a  pleasing  little  legacy  to  my  beloved  wife  and  chil- 
dren. The  latter  will  learn  what  the  former  already  loiows, 
and  Avhat  (thank  God  !)  she  sincerely  sympathises  with 
me  in — for  in  this,  as  in  all  things,  we  are  fellow-workers. 
The  children  will  know  what  their  father  wished,  prayed 
for,  and  resolved  to  labour  for. 

"  There  are  stages  in  love  to  God  found,  I  think,  in 
the  experience  of  all  advanced  Christians.  The  first  is  lo  /e, 
or  rather  gratitude,  for  what  God  has  done  or  is  to  us  ; 
the  second,  love  for  what  He  is  in  Himself ;  the  third, 
a  love  Avhich,  not  satisfied  with  personal  enjoyment,  desires 
that  the  universe  may  share  it,  and  is  grieved,  amazed, 
horrified,  that  any  should  be  blind  to  it — that  we  our- 
selves should  have  been  so,  and  see  it  so  dimly.  Do  I 
desire  that  God  should  thus  be  u'lorified  ? " 


To  lais  sister  Jane  : — 

"  I  know  you  would  like  a  yarn  about  all  manner  of 
particulars,  but  it  is  simply  impossible.  I  believe  the 
time  is  soon  coming  when  visits  and  mcssaqes  by  the  tele- 
graph will  be  conunon,  but  letters  as  much  out  of  date  as 
fohos.     The  Apostle  John's  letters  are  not  very  long,  but 


I85I— 1856. 


49 


tliG  writing  of  them  seems  to  have  been  uncongenial,  for 
he  frets  against  pen  and  ink.  By  tlie  way,  it  ^\'as  to 
a  lady,  wlio  I  have  no  doubt  cojnplained  of  liis  not 
writing  as  long  letters  to  her  as  Paul  did  to  some  of  his 
other  friends." 


To  Lis  Brother  Donald,  tlien  abroad: — 

"  I  rejoice  that  you  are  getting  into  good  French 
society.  See  as  many  persons  as  you  possibly  can — as 
various  types  of  opinion  as  possible. 
Be  not  ashamed  to  confess  ignorance, 
and  be  always  asking,  and  j^ou  will 
learn  much.    Men,  men — meet  men  ! 

"  Beware  with   intense  watchful- 
ness  aofainst  the  sensualisinGr  tend- 


ency  of  excitement  and  living  abroad.    ^,''''—''^\  ^^"^ 
The  society  of  the  good  is  the  best   s     ^  ^^ 

help    against    this — next    to    devo-     \  v,  "^ 


tion. 


To  the  Same  : — 

"  I  am  glad  you  are  at  art.     Try 
and   get  a  vivid  impression  of  the 
different    schools.       Study   chronologically.      I   remembei 
there  are  at  Munich  fine  specimens  of  sketches  by  Van 


"Of  the 'i?h  Church.' 


y" 


/^ 


"Would  you  not  b"ke  to  see  how  that  Brother  of  ours  in  the  Crimea 
is  looking  t    Eh  1 " 

-Dyck,    a    number    of    wonderful    Rubens,    with    excellent 
specimens  of  the  Flemish  school,  Berghen,  &c. 

VOL.     II.  E 


50 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


"  We  had  a  noble  meeting  of  the  British  Association. 

All  the  leading  men  were  in 
cliurch.  Had  a  glorious  talk 
Avith  Rawlinson — sein  eigener 
Staridpwnld. 

"  ])o,  my  dear  fellow,  study- 
hard  at  language.  Study,  you 
rascal,  study !  " 


"  My  liver  is  at  present  jolly." 


"  Jan.  17,  1856. — Report  this  morning  of  the  prospect 
of  peace  with  Russia.  Peace  is  joy  as  far  as  the  present 
suffering  is  concerned,  lint  as  far  as  the  interests  of  man 
are  concerned,  and  the  position  of  our  country,  I  mourn 
the  news.  We  have  come  out  of  this  war  lower  in  every 
respect  in  the  world's  opmion  than  we  were  when  we 
entered  it.  I  fear,  if  the  war  ends,  that  it  will  be  merely 
to  give  time  to  Russia  to  prepare  for  another  by  becoming 
herself  stronger,  and  biding  her  time  till  the  A\'estern 
powers  are  disunited.  The  salvation  of  the  world  now 
will  be  pushing  missions  in  the  East,  and  overturning  all 
things  from  within,  leave  the  without  to  come  right  in  us 
own  time." 


From  his  JorENAL  :— 

"Feb.  29. — I  have  had  one  of  the  severest  fourteen 
days  of  mental  and  bodily  fatigue — chiefly,  if  not  wholly, 
the  former — Avhich  I  have  had  for  years.  Last  Avoek, 
after  a  previous  week  of  toil,  there  was  Monday  and 
Tuesday  writing  and  dictating,  changing  and  reducing  a 

letter  in  reply  to  a  horrid  one  from .     The  struggle 

— and  it  was,  I  am  ashamed  to  say,  dreadful — was  to 
write  and  feel  as  a  Christian,  Avhen  my  flesh  could  have  so 
written  that  it  would  have  been  to  him  as  flaying  alive." 


To  his  Sister  Jane  : — 


Fch.  9,  1856. 


"  I  have  (as  Jean  used  to  say)  been  '  painfully  exer- 
cised '  !)}■  this  unjust  attack  from .     My  struggle, 


1851 — 1856.  5» 

you  understand,  is  between  the  temptation  to  yield  to 
anger  and  my  conviction  that  it  is  the  will  of  Christ  that 
I  should  so  love  him  as  to  consider  the  evil  in  him,  and 
seek  to  deliver  him  from  it.  How  horrible  to  be  obliged 
to  fight  at  all,  to  feel  the  desire  strong,  to  be  unable  to  say, 
'  I  love,'  to  feel  the  congeniality  of  revenge  !  0  pride  ! 
0  vanity  !  How  I  pray  not  only  to  speak  and  write  as  a 
Christian,  but  oh,  dearest,  to  feel  truly  as  one ! 

"As  to  John  Campbell's  book  on  the  '  Atonement,'  it 
is  like  himself,  dark,  but  deep,  and  very  true.  1  think  it 
has  led  me  caj^tive.  I  shall  read  it  again  ;  but  it  finds 
me,  and  fills  up  a  huge  void.  I  fear  that  no  one  has 
read  it  but  myself" 

"Sep.  27 th. — In  May  I  went  to  London  and  preached 
for  Herschell  and  the  Sailors'  Friend  Society,  and  then 
Avent  to  visit  my  dear  friend  Mrs.  Dennistoun  at  Tours. 
We  had  most  delightful  drives,  visiting  Mettray,  Plessy  de 
Tours,  and  the  old  Bastille  of  Loches.  I  attended  the 
Assembly  for  a  day  in  May.  They  carried,  by  an  immense 
majority  the  India  Education  measure,  for  which  Dr.  Bryce 
and  I  contended  almost  alone." 

This  allusion  to  the  India  Education  measure  refers 
to  a  discussion,  which  had  been  agitating  the  Church 
for  some  time,  as  to  the  lawfulness  of  accepting  for 
mission  schools  the  Government  Grants  in  Aid  while 
these  grants  were  given  equally  to  heathen,  or  at  all 
events  non- Christian,  schools.  The  extreme  '  Evan- 
gelical' party  contended  against  the  Church  condoning 
a  measure  which  they  thought  ought  never  to  have 
been  passed  by  a  Christian  State.  On  the  other 
hand  Norman  Macleod  and  Dr.  Bryce  held  that  it 
was  impossible  for  the  Government  to  take  any  nar- 
rower ground  in  dealing  with  a  country  circum- 
stanced like  India.     They  insisted  that  it  would  be 

£    2 


5«  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

tlic  height  of  folly  in  the  Church  to  refuse  assistance 
from  Government  in  the  matter  of  secular  instruction, 
as  long  as  she  was  left  free  to  add  religious  teaching; 
and  they  were  persuaded  that  to  separate  the  mission 
schools  from  the  educational  system  of  India  was 
simply  to  throw  away  an  opportunity  for  exercising  a 
wide  and  wholesome  influence.  The  vote  of  the 
Assembly  endorsed  their  views,  and  thus  inaugurated 
a  revolution  in  the  policy  of  the  India  Mission  of  the 
Church. 


From  his  Joitrnal. 

"  Glasgoiv,  August,  1856. — Tlie  Evangelical  Alliance  met 
here.  I  made  the  first  speech,  bidding  its  ministers  Avelcome. 
I  had  much  happy  communication  with  Sherman,  William 
Monod,  Krummacher  and  Kuntze  from  Berlm,  and 
Herschell. 

"  I  preached,  on  the  24th,  to  a  great  crowd,  among 
others  to  Mr.  Stanley  who  was  introduced  to  me  by 
John  Shairp.'"*     In  the  evening  we  had  a  prayer  meetiug 

•  The  following  letter  from  Mr.  Stanley  (now  Dean  Stanley)  to 
Principal  Shairp,  written  after  this  visit,  gives  a  graphic  account  of 
the  impressions  he  then  formed  : — 

'*....  Campbell  was  a  younger,  thinner,  sharper  man  than  I  had 
expected  to  see — a  thorough  gentleman — very  interesting  evidently 
and  refined  in  thought,  experience,  and  expression.  But  I  thought 
him  almost  too  spiritual,  too  ghostly  ;  the  stars  shone  through  him  ; 
he  would  vanish  at  the  cock- crowing.  A  beautiful  mind  and  spirit, 
but  too  much  insphered  in  its  own  light  to  be  of  much  use  to  me. 

"And  now  for  the  other.  If  Campbell  was  too  much  of  a 
ghost,  Noi-man  Macleod  is  undoubtedly  a  man  of  flesh  and  blood. 
I  first  heard  the  service  and  sermon.  The  sermon  was  on  John  xii. 
'  Except  a  corn  of  wheat,'  &c.  To  a  fastidious  taste  it  might  have 
been  too  oratorical  in  manner  and  matter ;  but  considering  the 
audience  and  the  tremendous  effort,  I  did  not  object  to  it.  I  thought 
it  admirable,  truly  evangelical,  not  a  word  of  untruth — very  moving 
in  parts,  full  of  illustrations,  critical  diificulties  glanced  at  and  avoided 
in  the  most  judicious  and  yet  honest  fashion.  In  short,  I  don't  know 
the  man  in  the  Church  of  England  who  could  have  preached  such  a 


1851^ — 1856.  S3 

for  winding  up  the  Scutari  Mission,  which  I  bless  God  to 
have  begun,  carried  on,  and  ended. 

"  October  Srd. — I  am  just  starting  for  Balmoral.  I 
believe  I  could  not  have  travelled  a  week  sooner,  since  I 
received  the  invitation  the  beginning  of  September  at 
Kirkaldy,  when  I  could  not  turn  in  bed.  I  go  in  Christ's 
name.  He  who  has  given  me  this  work  will  give  me 
grace  to  do  it.  Blessed  and  most  merciful  Lord,  hear  me, 
and  dehver  me  from  all  vanity,  pride,  and  self-seeking, 
and  all  the  nervous  fear  which  they  occasion !  Give  me 
only  faith  in  Thee,  love  to  Thee,  and  all  will  be  well,  and 
bless  Thy  word  for  immortal  souls,  and  for  the  good 
of  those  to  whom  Thou  hast  given  such  power  in  the 
world  ! 

"  October  Sth,  Tuesday. — I  have  just  returned,  and  all 
my  confidence  in  Christ  has  been  vindicated.  I  preached 
on  Sabbath,  my  subject  being  faith  in  a  living,  present, 
divine  Saviour,  the  solution  of  difficulties.  Miss  Nightin- 
gale was  among  my  audience.  I  was  asked  in  the 
evening  to  dine  at  the  Castle.  The  Prince  spoke  much 
to  me. 

"  May  the  Lord  bless  all  this  for  good !  It  is  my 
deepest  and  truest  prayer,  that  all  may  tend  to  His 
glory." 

sermon  ;  nor  do  I  know  sucli  a  man  as  I  found  him  to  be  afterwards  in 
converse,  first  in  the  vestry  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour,  and  afterwards 
for  two  hours  here  in  the  evening.  Of  course  I  have  known  men  of 
greater  abilities  and  character,  but,  if  he  be  what  he  seems,  I  know 
no  one  wh.o  unites  such  thorough,  good  sense,  honestj%  manly  inde- 
pendence, with,  such  working,  stirring,  devout  energy  and.  power  of 
appealing  to  the  mass.  How  gladlj',  but  that  he  is  better  where  he 
is,  would  I  have  made  him  an  English  bishop.  We  went  over  many 
fields  together,  and  I  am  sincerely  grateful  to  you  for  having  made 
him  known  to  me 

"I  asked  bim  about  the  Free  Kirk  and  the  Covenanters,  and  he 
charmed  the  cockles  of  my  heart  by  his  answer.  '  The  Free  Kirk  was 
just  an  outburst  of  Presbyterian  Puseyism.'  '  Laud  and  the  Cove- 
nanters were  just  tbe  same  men  on  different  sides,  except  that  what 
one  called,  'church'  the  otber  called,  'kirk,'  and  I  am  heartily  glad 
they  eat  each  other  up.  The  Free  Kirk  are  descendants  of  the 
Covenanters ;  they  pride  themselves  on  being  '  tbe  Churcb  of  the 
past.'  That  is  just  wbat  tbey  are,  and  I  make  tbem  a  present  of  it 
"with  aU  my  heart.'  " 


54  LIFR  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Extracts  from  u  private  Note-book  for  1856  : — 

"  How  to  spend  the  morning  hour  from  6  to  7  A.M. 
A  sliort  prayer  for  the  Spirit  of  God,  that  it  may  be 
wisely  and  profitably  spent.  Devotional  reading — Baxter 
and  Leighton.  Short  meditation  and  prayer  on  wliat  is 
read,  with  reference  to  individual  application.  A  ])salm 
sung  quietly.  The  Scriptures  read  in  order,  with  thought 
and  devotion.      Prayer." 

From  his  Joukn.vl  : — 

"  As  I  opened  my  shutters  this  morning,  the  crescent 
moon,  clear  and  weU  defined,  and  with  a  bright  attendant 
star,  occupied  the  blue  sky  Avith  hardly  a  cloud.  Of  what 
use  has  that  moon  been  during  the  past  night  !  ^lany  a 
pilgrim  has  tracked  his  way  by  her  beams,  and  many  a 
mariner  by  them  has  seen  his  port !  But  the  sun  is 
rising,  and  the  moon  must  depart  like  the  Mosaic  ritual, 
and  many  an  old  patriarchal  form  of  truth,  before  the 
rising  of  that  Sun  of  Righteousness  whose  glory  was  all 
their  liiilit." 

"  There  are  men  who  no  more  grasp  the  truth  which 
they  seem  to  hold,  than  a  sparrow  grasps  the  message 
passing  through  the  electric  wire  on  which  it  perches." 

"  I  received  the  following  answers  from  two  intending 
communicants,  and  they  illustrate  a  fact  which  has  often 
been  impressed  on  me,  respecting  the  possibility  of  pei-sons 
being  regular  in  church  all  their  lives,  and  yet  remaining 
ignorant  of  the  simplest  truths. 

"  Who  led  the  children  out  of  Egypt  ?     Eve. 

"  Who  was  Eve  ?      The  mother  of  God. 

"  What  death  did  Christ  die  ?  (Mter  a  long  time) 
Hanged  on  a  tree. 

"  What  did  they  do  with  the  body  ?  Laid  it  in  a 
manger. 

"  What  did  Christ  do  for  sinners  ?      Gave  Ili.^  Son. 

"  Any  wonderful  works  Christ  did  ?  Made  the  xuorld 
in  six  days. 


1851  — 1856.  55 

"  Any  others  ?     Buried  Martha,  Mary,  and  Lazarus. 

"  What  became  of  them  afterwards.  Angels  took  them 
to  Abrahams  bosom. 

"  What  had  Christ  to  do  with  that  ?  He  took  Abra" 
ham. 

"  Who  was  Christ  ?     The  Holy  Spirit. 

"  Are  you  a  sinner  ?     Wo. 

"  Did  you  never  sin,  and  do  you  love  God  perfectly  ? 
Yes." 

"  November  llth,  1856. — Both  sciatica  and  work  I  feai 
on  the  increase. 

"  I  feel  the  pressure  and  the  pain.      What  am  I  to  do  ? 

"  1.  Keep  my  temper  and  my  peace  in  God,  the  calm 
of  my  inner  shrine  where  He  is,  undisturbed  by  the  noise 
of  the  thronging  '  courts  of  the  priests,'  '  of  the  people,' 
'  of  the  women,'  or  '  of  the  gentiles '  without.  This  is  my 
first  duty.  There  never  can  be  a  good  reason  for  my 
losing  inner  peace  with  God.      God  help  me  ! 

"  2.  I  must  by  His  grace  attend  to  details,  and  use  right 
means  to  attain  this  end.  1.  Early  rising,  and  methodical 
division  of  time.  2.  Acceptance  of  no  more  Avork  than 
can  be  done  in  consistency  with  my  health  and  strength. 
3.  Cultivating  happy,  cheerful  thoughts  of  lile,  having  a 
strong  faith  that  God  is  and  Christ  is,  and  that  the  end 
shall  be  glorious  to  every  '  soldier '  Avho  *  endures  hardness,* 
in  the  grand  campaign. 

"  God  give  me  grace  to  rise  as  I  used  to  do — at  ^  to  6 
— for  it  is  always  hard  to  the  flesh  ! 

"  My  Father,  Thou  Ivnowest  my  frame  !  Thou  remem- 
berest  I  am  dust.  Thou  carest  for  me.  I  can  therefore 
cast  my  care  on  Thee,  and  so  be  careful  for  nothing. 
Keep  me  in  Thy  peace.  Let  me  ever  honour  Thee  as  th( 
best  of  masters  by  obedience  to  Thy  will  in  all  things, 
by  honouring  Thy  laws  whether  relating  to  body  or  mind, 
and  by  doing  all  things  and  accepting  all  things  with  a 
calm  spirit.  Thou  knowest  Thy  servant,  and  under- 
standest  his  thoughts.  Help  me  according  to  Thy  word. 
Amen. 

"I  do   not  wish  to  fly   to  that  blue  sky,  but  by  the 


56  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLFOD. 

help  of  God  Almighty  to  act  a  tnie  and  brave  part  amidst 
the  smoke  and  mud  and  sui  of  Glasgow. 

"  Lord  forgive  me,  if  I  seem  to  think  I  am  enduring 
liardncss  !  God  have  mercy  on  me  for  ever  thinking  my 
lot  has  a  cloud — a  speck  of  hardness  in  it.  My  cup  runs 
over  with  mercies.  I  am  in  the  lap  of  every  indulgence, 
and  if  I  fret,  it  is  as  a  spoiled  child." 


CHAPTEE  XIY. 

1857—1859. 

IN  1857  lie  began  to  hold  evening  services  for  the 
poor,  to  which  none  were  admitted  except  in 
their  everyday  working  clothes.  The  success  of  a 
similar  experiment,  made  many  years  before  in  Lou- 
doun, encouraged  him  to  make  this  attempt  in  Glas- 
gow, in  the  hope  of  reaching  some  of  those  who,  from 
poverty  or  other  causes,  had  fallen  away  from  all 
church  attendance.  For  the  first  winter,  these  services 
were  held  in  the  Martyrs'  church,  which  was  filled 
every  Sabbath  evening  by  the  very  people  he  wished 
to  get ;  the  following  year  they  were  transferred  to 
the  Barony,  where  they  were  continued  till  a  mission 
church  was  built.  It  may  be  safely  asserted  that  this 
work  gave  him  more  interest  than  any  other  he  ever 
undertook  ;  and  that  he  never  addressed  any  audience 
with  greater  effect  than  that  which  he  gathered 
from  '  the  streets  and  lanes  of  the  city.'  The  pews 
were  filled  with  men  in  their  fustian  jackets  and  with 
poor  women,  bareheaded,  or  with  an  old  shawl  drawn 
over  the  head,  and  dressed  most  of  them  in  short-gown 
and  petticoat.  Unkempt  heads,  faces  begrimed  with 
labour,  and  mothers  with  infants  in  their  arms,  gave  a 


S8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

strange  character  to  the  scene.  The  police  some- 
times reported  that  several  well-known  thieves  were 
present,  liut,  however  large  and  various  the  audience 
might  be,  he  seemed  to  hold  the  key  to  every  heart 
and  conscience ;  and  so  riveted  was  the  attention  he 
secured,  that  not  unfrequently  an  involuntary  excla- 
mation of  surprise  or  sympathy  would  pass  from  lip 
to  lip  over  the  crowd.  The  following  descriiDtion  of 
one  of  these  evenings  in  the  Larony  is  taken  from  an 
English  newspaper  : — 

**  I  found  I  would  not  be  admitted  except  I  was  dressed 
as  a  working  man.  The  uniform  of  a  dragoon  was  ott'orod 
and  accepted,  but  on  second  thoughts  I  preferred  the  cast- 
off  working-dress  of  a  coach-builder — a  dirty  coat,  a  dirty 
M'hite  flannel  vest,  striped  shirt,  red  cravat,  and  Glengarry 
boimet.  Thus  attued,  I  stood  waitinsf  amoncf  the  crowd 
of  poor  men  and  women  that  were  shivering  at  the  gate, 
biding  the  time.  Many  of  these  women  were  very  old  and 
very  frail  The  night  being  excessively  cold,  the  most  of 
them  had  the  skirts  of  their  gowns  tucked  over  tlieir  heads. 
Not  a  few  of  them  had  a  deep  asthmatic  wheczle,  most 
distressing  to  hear.  Poor  souls  !  they  were  earnestly  talk- 
ing about  the  Doctor  and  his  sayings.  I  conversed  with 
several  workini?  men  who  had  attended  all  the  sei'les  from 
the  first,  three  or  four  years  back.  I  asked  one  man 
if  they  were  all  Scotch  who  attended  ?  He  said,  '  All 
nations  go  and  hear  the  Doctor.'  Another  said,  '  Highland 
Scotch  and  Lowland  Scotch,  and  English  and  Irish, —  in 
fact,  a'  kind  o'  folks  comes  to  the  Doctor  on  Sabbath  nichts.' 
*  A'  body  likes  the  Doctor,'  said  another.  One  man,  a 
labourer,  I  think,  in  a  foundry,  said,  '  He  kent  great  lots 
o'  folk  that's  been  blessed  by  the  Doctor,  baith  Scotch  and 
Irish,  I  ken  an  Irish  Catholic  that  wrought  wi'  me,  o'  the 
name  o'  Boyd,  and  he  came  ae  nicht  out  o'  curiosity,  and  he 
was  converted  afore  he  raise  from  his  scat,  and  he's  a  stanch 
Protestant  to  this  day,  every  bit  o'  'im,  though  liis  father 
and  mother,  and  a'  his  folks,  are  sair  against  him  for  't.' 


iSSy — 1859.  59 

"  On  the  door  being  opened,  a  sudden  rush  took  place 
m  that  direction,  I  found  a  'posse  of  elders  stationed 
as  a  board  of  inspection,  closely  examining  old  and  young, 
male  and  female,  and  turning  back  all  who  had  any  signs 
of  respectability.  All  hats  and  bonnets  were  excluded, 
]\Iy  courage  almost  failed  me,  but  as  I  had  from  boy- 
hood been  in  the  habit  of  doing  what  I  could  among 
the  poor,  and  being  so  bent  on  ascertaining  the  '  way '  of 
the  Doctor  with  that  class,  I  resolved  to  make  tlie  effort. 
My  weakness  arose  from  the  fear  of  detection  by  any  of  the 
elders  I  spoke  to  in  the  forenoon.  Pulling  my  hair  down 
over  my  brow,  and,  in  the  most  slovenly  manner  possible, 
wiping  my  nose  with  the  sleeve  of  my  coat,  I  pushed  my 
way  up  to  the  board,  and  '  passed.'  I  found  that  none  of 
the  seat  cushions,  black,  red,  green,  or  blue,  were  removed  ; 
no,  nor  the  pew  Bibles  or  Psalm  books,  a  pain  proof  that, 
by  the  test  of  several  years,  the  j)oor  of  the  closes  and 
wynds  could  be  trusted.  The  contrast  between  the  forenoon 
and  evening  congregations  m  point  of  appearance  was  very 
great  and  striking;  but  in  regard  to  order  and  decorum 
there  was  no  difference  whatever.  When  the  time  was 
up,  a  little  boy  was  seen  leading  a  blind  man  along  the 
aisle  towards  the  pulpit.  On  the  boy  placing  the  blind 
man  in  the  precentor's  desk,  a  poor  man  sitting  next  me 
nudged  me  on  the  elbow,  and  asked,  '  Is  that  the  man  that's 
to  proech  till  's  ? '  '  Oh,  no  ! '  said  I,  '  You'll  see  the 
Doctor  immediately,'  '  But  surely,'  says  he,  '  that  canna 
be  the  regular  precentor  ? '  '  Oh,  no,'  said  I.  *  This  man, 
r  suspect,  is  the  precentor  for  us  poor  folks.'  Here  the 
Doctor — stout,  tall,  and  burly — was  seen  ascending  the 
pulpit  stairs.  He  began  by  prayer.  He  then  gave  out 
the  130th  Psalm  for  praise.  Before  singing,  he  com- 
mented at  great  length  on  the  character  and  spirit  of  the 
Psalm,  dwelling  very  fully  on  the  first  line,  '  Lord,  from  Uie 
depths  to  thee  I  cried  ! '  Nothing  could  have  been  better 
adapted  for  his  auditory  than  the  Doctor's  consolatory  ex- 
position of  that  Psalm.  The  precentor  by  this  time  had 
got  very  uneasy,  and  had  several  times  struck  his  pitch- 
fork, and  was  ready  to  start,  but  the  Doctor,  being  so  full, 
and  having  still  this,  that,  and  the  other  thing  to  say,  he 


60  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

could  not  commence.  At  last,  the  Doctor  looking  kindly 
down  upon  him,  siiid,  'You'll  rise  now,  Peter,  and  begin." 
lie  rose,  and  began.  lie,  tracing  the  lines  with  his  fingL-rs 
on  his  ponderous  Psalm  book  of  raised  letters,  '  gave  out 
the  lines,'  two  at  a  time.  It  was  a  most  gratifying  spectacle, 
and  said  much  for  the  advance  of  Christian  civilisation.  The 
Doctor  next  read  the  first  chapter  of  the  first  epistle  of  Paul 
to  the  Thessalonians.  The  commentary  on  the  chapter  was 
most  strikingly  elective  in  point  of  consolatory  and  prac- 
tical ap2)lication  to  the  condition  of  his  auditory.  In  refer- 
ring to  the  mother  and  gi-andmother  of  Timothy,  he  made 
a  grand  stand  for  character,  "Nfhich  made  the  poor  man 
next  to  me  strike  the  floor  several  times  with  his  feet  by 
way  of  testifying  his  approbation.  Had  the  Doctor's 
remarks  on  the  subject  been  delivered  from  a  platform, 
they  would  have  elicited  thunders  of  applause.  He  said 
the  most  valuable  thing  Prince  Albert  left  was  character."^ 
He  knew  perfectly  well  that  very  many  very  poor  people 
thought  that  it  was  impossible  for  them  to  have  a  character 
It  was  not  true  ;  he  would  not  hear  of  it.  There  was  not 
a  man  nor  a  woman  before  him,  however  poor  they  might 
be,  but  had  it  in  their  power,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to 
leave  behind  them  the  grandest  thing  on  earth,  character  ; 
and  their  children  may  rise  up  after  them,  and  thank  God 
that  their  mother  was  a  pious  woman,  or  their  father  a 
pious  man.  The  text  selected  was  1  Timothy  vi.  1 2 — 1 4. 
The  discourse  was  very  plain,  explicit,  pointed,  and  amj^ly 
illustrated,  as  by  one  Avho  knew  all  tlie  '  outs  and  ins,' 
difficulties  and  trials  of  the  people  before  him,  and  they 
listened  with  breathless  attention,  and  appeared  to  drink 
in  all  he  said,  as  indeed  '  good  words '  for  them.  Some  of 
the  children-in-arms  sometimes  broke  the  silence  by  their 
j)rattle  or  their  screams,  but  the  doctor,  though  uncom- 
monly sensitive,  never  appeared  the  least  put  about." 

The  results  of  these  services  were  remarkable. 
Many  hundreds  were  reclaimed  from  lawless  habits, 
some  of  the  more  ignorant  were  educated,  and  a  large 

*  This  description  was  written  in  1861. 


i8s7 — 1859.  61 

number  became  communicants.  There  was  a  nobility 
of  character  displayed  by  several  of  these  working 
men  which  moved  him  to  tears  as  he  spoke  of  them, 
and  gave  him  a  deeper  love  than  ever  for  the  poor. 
Some  of  them  took  ways  of  showing  their  gratitude, 
the  very  oddity  of  which  gave  touching  evidence  of 
the  depth  of  the  feeling.* 

His  method  of  instruction  was  admirably  adajDted 
to  the  character  of  his  audience.  He  was  never  ab- 
stract, but  threw  his  teaching  into  objective  or  descrip- 
tive form,  and  not  seldom  dramatized  the  lesson  he  was 
enforcing.  His  counsel  was  not  confined  to  things 
spiritual,  but  embraced  such  practical  mutters  as  the 
sanitary  condition  of  the  houses  of  the  poor,  healthy 
food,  and  the  treatment  of  children,  and  was  given  so 
forcibly  that  the  meanest  intelligence  could  understand 
the  rationale  of  his  advice.  His  unaffected  sympathy 
with  the  poor  and  ignorant  in  all  their  wants  and 
difficulties  was  the  secret  of  his  power  over  them. 
His  frankness  and  large  human-heartedness  com- 
manded their  confidence  and  won  their  afi*ection. 

*^March  15,  1857. — I  began,  four  Aveeks  ago,  my  sermon 
to  working  men  and  women  in  their  working  clothes,  on 
my  old  Loudoun  plan,  of  excluding  all  who  had  clothes  fit  for 
church  by  day.  And  by  God's  great  mercy  I  have  crammed 
the  Martyrs'  Church  with  such.  I  never  experienced  more 
joy  than  in  this  service.  It  is  grand.  I  do  not  envy 
Wellington  at  Waterloo. 

*  I  remember  on  a  Sunday  evening  returning  witli  him,  after  one 
of  these  services,  to  our  father's  house.  When  the  cab  stopped,  a 
rough  hand  was  pushed  in  at  the  window.  Norman  understood  what 
was  meant,  and  on  taking  what  was  offered,  received  a  warm  grasp 
from  some  unknown  working  man,  who  had  come  from  the  Barony 
church,  a  mile  away,  to  express  by  this  act  more  thankfulness  than 
he  could  find  words  to  utter. 


6t  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

'*  I  have  just  published  '  Deborcah,'  a  book  for  servants. 
^V^lat  is  written  with  a  sin<j^le  eye,  and  seeking  God's  blessing, 
must,  I  tliink,  do  such  good  as  will  vindicate  the  publication. 
We  shall  see. 

"  Sandaij,  29. — On  the  Monday  after  the  former  journal 
T  was  seized  with  dreadful  neuralgia  (as  it  was  called).  I 
spent  the  night  in  my  study  ;  on  the  floor,  sofa,  chair — any- 
where for  rest.  It  left  me  Tuesday,  and  then  till  Sunday 
I  su tiered  several  hours  each  day,  the  only  agony  I 
ever  experienced.  I  spent  another  terrible  night.  Sun- 
day last  I  was  in  bed.  Since  then  I  have  been  confineil 
to  the  house,  but,  thank  God,  feel  able  to  preach  this  after- 
noon and  evenin'j^,  though  I  have  been  writing  with  much 
sense  of  weakness  of  body.  Then  scarlet  fever  attacked 
my  beloved  boy  on  Tuesday.  But  oh  !  the  awful  mercy 
of  God  to  m^,  he  has  had  it  as  yet  most  gentl}^  Was  I 
sincere  when  I  gave  him  up,  all  up  to  God  last  -week  ? 
I  hope  so.  As  far  as  I  know,  I  desire  Jesus  to  choose 
for  me  ;  and,  as  far  as  I  know,  there  is  nothing  could 
make  me  alter  that  calm  resolution  ;  but,  as  far  as  I  know, 
there  is  also  no  man  whose  flesh  winces  more  under  fear 
of  affliction,  or  who  would  more  require  the  mighty  power 
of  God  to  keep  him  from  open  rebellion.  Amidst  all  con- 
fusion, darkness,  doubts,  fears,  there  is  ever  one  light,  one 
life,  one  all — Jesus,  the  living  personal  Saviour!" 

With  the  desire  of  promoting  increased  life  in  the 
Church,  he  wrote  a  series  of  articles  in  the  Edin- 
burgh Christian  Magazine^  in  which  he  proposed  the 
formation  of  a  Church  Union  for  the  purpose  of  dis- 
cussing questions  connected  with  practical  work,  and 
for  earnest  prayer  for  the  outpouring  of  God's  Spirit. 
He  believed  that  there  were  many  ministers  and 
laymen  who  were  mourning  in  secret  over  faults  in 
the  Church  which  were  a  continual  burden  to  his 
own  soul;  and  that  the  best  results  might  be  ex- 
pected if  such  men  were  only  brought  together  for 


i857 — 1859-  63 

conference  and  prayer.  The  state  of  the  Church 
seemed  to  call  for  some  such  movement.  'What 
most  alarms  me  is  that  we  are  not  alarmed.  What 
most  pains  me  is  that  we  are  not  pained.'  '  Whether 
we  are  the  Church  of  the  past,  or  the  true  repre- 
sentatives of  the  Second  Keformation,  or  any  other 
reformation,  is  to  us  a  question  of  comparatively  little 
importance ;  but  it  is  of  infinite  importance  that  we 
be  the  Church  of  the  present,  and  thereby  become 
the  Churcli  of  the  future.  Let  the  dead  bury  their 
dead,  but  let  us  follow  Christ  and  be  fellow-laboui'ers 
with  Him  in  this  world.' 

After  several  preliminary  meetings,  the  Union  was 
formed,  but  it  existed  only  two  years,  and  the  only 
memorial  of  it  now  remaining  is  to  be  found  in  the 
missionary  breakfast,  which  is  held  during  every 
General  Assembly. 


From  his  Journal  : — 

"  The  second  meeting  of  tlie  Union  is  to-morrow.  I 
have  prayed  often  that  out  of  that  weakness  God  may 
ordain  strength,  to  aid  my  dear  but  sore-wounded  and 
sutfering  Church  ;  but,  best  of  all,  to  help  His  Church,  by 
saving  souls  and  unitinof  saints. 

''  A'pril  11,  12  P.M. — Sunday  last  I  finished  my  winter's 
course  in  the  Martyrs'  Church,  and  invited  all  who  wished 
to  partake  of  the  Lord's  Supper  to  intimate  their  Avishes 
to  me  on  Tuesday  in  the  vestry.  On  Tuesday  evening 
seventy-six  came  for  communion  !  Of  these  forty-seven 
had  never  communicated  before.  Fifty-two  were  females  ; 
twenty-five  males.  I  never  saw  such  a  sight,  nor  experi- 
enced such  unmixed  joy,  for  all  had  come  because  blessed 
through  the  Word,  and  a  great  majority  seemed  to  me  to 
have  been  truly  converted.     Bless  the  Lord  !     To-niorrow, 


64  LIFE  OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

please  God,  I  shall  give  tliem  the  Communion  in  their 
working  clothes  at  tive  in  the  church. 

"  I  am  persuaded  that  to  succeed  in  doing  permanent 
good  to  such  it  is  necessary  (1)  To  preach  regularly  and 
systematically  (with  heart,  soul,  and  strength  though !). 
(2)  To  exclude  well-dressed  people.  (3)  To  keep  out  oi 
newspapers  and  off  platforms,  and  avoid  fv.sa.  (4)  To 
develop  self-reliance.  (5)  To  give  Communion  on  credit- 
able profession,  as  the  apostles  admitted  to  the  Church, 
and  then  to  gather  up  results,  and  bring  the  converts  into 
a  society.  (6)  To  follow  up  by  visitation,  stimulating 
themselves  to  collect  for  clothes. 

"  Tuesday,  1  Mh. — What  shall  I  render  unto  the  Lord  for 
all  His  benefits  ? 

"  Sabbath  was  a  day  of  peace  and  joy,  and  my  sermon 
on  'God  forbid  that  I  should  glory,  &c./  preached  in  great 
peace  by  me — and  I  believe  found  most  profitable  by  my 
dear  people.  How  could  I  convey  to  any  other  the 
profound  and  undying  conviction  I  have  of  God  being 
verily  a  hearer  of  prayer  and  a  personal  God  ?  Whatever 
arguments  were  capable  of  shaking  my  faith  in  this,  would 
shake  my  faith  in  God.  I  gave  the  Communion  to  sixty- 
seven  working  people  in  their  working  clothes.  Having 
kept  my  intention  secret,  as  1  was  terrified  for  fass  and  a 
spectacle,  none  were  present  but  the  elders.  I  went 
through  the  regular  service,  occupying  about  seventy 
minutes.  The  whole  scene  was  very  solemn,  very  touching. 
I  believe  all  were  sincere. 

"  But  now  comes  the  great  work  of  training  them  to 
habits  of  self-reliance  and  self-denial.  I  shall  watch  and 
labour,  and  before  God  shall  tell  the  truth  or  my  results. 
Failure  may  teach  us  as  well  as  success.  If  I  fail,  then  1 
will  set  a  buoy  on  my  wreck  to  warn  others  from  the 
rock,  but  not  from  the  harbour.  My  new  elders  were 
with  me — God  bless  them  ! 

"  Last  evening  all  was  ended  with  a  prayer  meeting  of 
the  Union,  I  in  the  chair.  My  good  and  valued  friends, 
William  Robertson  and  Smith  of  Lauder,  with  me,  also 
dear  James  Campbell. 

"Then  prayer  and  thanksgiving  alone  with  my  beloved 


i857— 1?59-  6s 

■wife  for  the  end  of  these  five  weeks  since  the  night  I 
sprang  up  in  agony  and  spent  a  night  of  great  pain  in  this 
room — my  study  !      T.  G.  A. 

« May. — I  go  to  London  this  evening  to  speak  for 
Tract  Society.  I  preach  twice  for  Herschell.  On  jMonday, 
for  the  London  Missionary  Society  ;  then  home,  dear  home  ! 
And  now,  Father,  I  go  forth  again  in  Thy  name,  and  desire 
to  be  kept  true,  humble,  and  unselfish  :  seeking  Tliy  glory 
and  Thy  favour,  which  verily  is  life  !     Amen,  and  Amen. 

"  May  17. — I  have  returned,  and  give  thanks  to  God  ! 
I  spoke  on  Friday  evening — very  lamely  indeed- — for  I 
was  made  so  uncomfortable  by  a  narrow  and  vulgar  attack 

by on ;    and   then   by    as    narrow  and    move 

vulgar  attack  by on  modern  novels.      I  had  to  stick 

up  for  Jack  the  Giant  Killer.  I  think  I  shall  never  enter 
Exeter  Hall  again  on  such  occasions.  The  atmosphere  is 
too  muggy  for  my  lungs." 

The  year  1857  was  notable  in  his  own  spiritual 
history.  He  was  attacked  by  an  illness  which  for  a 
time  gave  his  medical  advisers  considerable  anxiot}', 
and  was  attended  with  such  pain,  that  he  had  fre- 
quently to  pass  the  greater  part  of  the  night  in  his 
chair;  yet,  during  the  day,  when  the  suffering  had 
abated,  he  was  generally  at  his  post  of  labour  in  the 
parish.  For  a  while  he  took  the  worst  view  of  his  own 
case,  but  anticipated  its  issue  with  calmness.  An 
autumn  tour,  however,  in  Switzerland,  in  which  he  was 
accompanied  by  his  wife,  and  by  his  valued  friends, 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  J.  A.  Campbell,  in  a  great  measure 
restored  him.  But,  shortly  after  his  return,  Mrs.  Mac- 
leod  was  laid  prostrate  by  typhoid  fever,  which  ren- 
dered her  delirious  for  several  weeks,  and  reduced  her 
to  so  critical  a  condition  that  on  several  occasions 
her  life  was  despaired  of.      He  recognised  the  solemn 

VOL.    ]I.  F 


66  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

teachirig  which  these  days  of  terrible  suspense  con- 
tained, and  his  journals  record  the  mental  agony  he 
passed  through,  as  he  tried  to  render  willing  obedi- 
ence to  his  Father's  will.  It  seemed  a  period  when 
all  the  lessons  of  his  past  life — all  his  own  sermons 
and  teaching  to  others — all  he  had  known  of  God  and 
of  the  nature  of  Christian  life  as  a  life  of  Sonship — 
were  gathered  into  one  decisive  question  for  liis  own 
soul.  lie  literally  wrestled  in  prayer,  and  fought 
inch  by  inch  against  self-will,  until  he  was  able  to 
say,  in  peaceful  submission,  '  Thy  will  be  done.' 
The  effects  of  this  time  were  immediate  and  ejiduring. 
He  lived  henceforth  more  entirely  for  God,  and  became 
much  more  tender,  considerate,  and  patient  towards 
others  than  he  had  ever  been.  There  was  no  lessen- 
ing of  the  old  joyousness  and  genial  humour ;  but 
he  seemed  to  care  less  for  the  o[)inions  of  men,  and 
looked  more  than  ever  to  God  alone. 

It  may  now  appear  that  the  experience  of  this 
epoch  in  his  life  was  as  opportune  as  it  was  powerful. 
It  came  when  he  was  about  to  enter  a  wider  sphere 
of  influence  than  he  had  hitherto  occupied,  and  to 
encounter  greater  difliculties  than  those  with  which 
his  past  career  had  made  him  fLimiliar.  It  was  well, 
therefore,  that  his  character  should  have  been  forti- 
fied, as  it  was  at  this  period,  to  withstand  the  shock 
of  conflicting  opinions  ;  and  that,  having  been  thrown 
so  completely  on  God,  he  was  able  henceforth  to  be 
freer  than  ever  of  the  influence  of  parties  and  their 
leaders. 

"  June  4. — For  sonic  days  I  have  folt  pain,  and  foarod  the 
return  of  my  complaint.    I  have  seen  Dr.  Laurie.     I  know 


18.57— '^59-  6; 

it  to  he  very  serious,  and  I  feel  now  liow  this  may  be  the 
be'finningf  ot"  the  end. 

"  Yet  how  awing  is  the  tlionght  of  the  gift  of  hfe 
being  rendered  up  !  The  opportunities  of  receiving  and 
doing  good  here  gone  for  ever  ;  pain  to  be  encountered,  and 
then  the  great  secret  revealed  !  But  every  question  is 
stilled,  every  doubt  answered,  all  good  secured,  in  and 
through  faith  in  the  name  of  Father,  Son  (Brother),  and 
Comforter  ! 

"  Oh,  God,  enable  me  to  be  brave,  unselfish,  cheerful, 
patient,  because  trusting  Thee  ! 

"  Evening. — I  feel  a  crisis  in  my  illness  is  passed.  0  my 
God,  let  not  two  such  days  of  thought  be  lost  to  me,  as 
those  occasioned  last  month  by  my  mistaken  fears  about 
myself." 

To  J.  (J.  Hamilton,  Esq,  : — 

Cr'iIgie  Burn,  Moffat,  Jvh/  1th. 

"  Here  I  am,  like  a  blackbird  reposing  in  my  nest  in  a 
green  wood,  beside  a  burn,  surrounded  by  pastoral 
hills,  musical  with  bleating  sheep  and  shadowy  with 
clouds.  My  chicks  all  about  me,  some  chirping,  some 
singing,  all  gaping  for  food,  with  my  lady  blackbird  perched 
beside  me,  her  glossy  plumage  glittering  in  the  sun,  a  per- 
fect sermon  on  contentment. 

"  Blackbirds  put  me  in  mind  of  hills,  and  bills  of  money, 
and  money  of  those  who  need  it,  and  then  of  those  wlio 
are  willing  to  give  it,  and  that  brings  me  to  you.  It  is 
not  for  schools,  churches,  or  schemes  but  for  charity  to 
help  a  needy  gentlewoman 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  my  complaint  has  not  left  me. 
I  had  a  learned  consultation  in  London  with  the  great 
authority  in  such  cases.  He  has  put  me  on  a  regimen  so 
strict  that  it  would  make  a  hermit's  cell  almost  comfc^rt- 
able ;  and  he  commands  rest.  But  this  I  cannot  command 
for  a  month  yet." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

''December. — I  am  alone,  with  nothing  to  oocupy  me 
but  my  own  thoughts,  and  come    what   may,  perhaps  it 

F  2 


68  LIFE    OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

may  liclf)  on  CJoil's  work  in  my  sonl  if  I  try  to  express 
cvtii  ill  a  very  inadequate  and  crude  way  the  solemn  crisis 
throUL,di  wliich  I  am  now  passing. 

"  Wednesday  niglit  my  beloved  one  became  so  alarm- 
ingly ill  that  I  lost  all  hope.  The  night  was  a  memorable 
one  to  me.  It  was  one  of  those  awful  soul  strufrijles  be- 
tween  life  in  God  and  the  creature,  which  seem  to  comjiress 
the  history  of  years  into  minutes.  The  only  thing  that 
gave  me  light  was  the  one  thought  of  doing  God's  will, 
and  it  did  seem  to  me  riij^ht,  beautiful,  crood,  that  it  should 
be  done  in  any  way,  I  was  able  to  look  up  to  my  Father 
and  say,  '  Th^Mvill,  not  mine.'  But  oh!  oh!  the  strngule 
now^  !  To  be  willing  in  truth,  to  bur}*  my  life  out  of  siglit, 
how  hard  !  To  have  my  true  life  in  God  alone —  im- 
possible !  I  am  sup})orted,  I  think  (dear  God,  pity  me  !) 
I  can  siiy  *  Thy  will,  not  mine  !  '  But  to  do  this  truly  ; 
to  do  it  always  ;  to  do  it  in  all  things  ;  to  hang  loose  from 
life  to  all  but  Thee  !  O  my  Father,  help  me,  teach 
me,  for  I  desire  faith  and  patience  to  have  their  perfect 
work.  I  desire  to  be  mide  Thine  wholly,  and  to  learn 
obedience  and  meekness  a :  a  son ;  but  .0  God,  my  Father, 
uphold  me  under  Thy  loving,  but  sore  and  necessary 
dealing.  If  she  is  taken  away  !  If  she  is  spared  !  '  Lord, 
into  Thy  hand  I  commit  my  spirit,'  as  unto  a  faitliful 
Creator.      Glorify  Thy  name  ! 

"  My  Father,  I  lie  at  Thy  feet,  and  desire  to  be  led 
as  a  child,  and  to  follow  Jesus — to  die  with  Him.  Yet 
lead  me  not  into  deeper  trial  lest  I  perish.  Yet,  Amen — 
Amen — I  trust  in  Thee  !  In  the  depths,  in  darkness,  I 
trust  in  Thee.  God  forgive  my  fears ;  Thou  rememberest 
I  am  dust." 

To  li's  SisiER  Jane  : — 

22«(?  Noveiiiber. 

"  The  nervous,  distracted  outAvard  man  is  one,  and  the 
inner  rest  in  God  belongs  to  another  being.  They  both 
sadly  cross.  But  my  fiiith  is  not  shaken  in  Him.  ^lay  it 
be  found  to  His  glory  at  His  appearing." 

"This  is  a  quiet,  peaceful  day.  Without — wind,  rain, 
mist.      Within — 2)eace. 


1857—1859-  69 

"  All  that  man  can  do  for  her  is  done.  She  is  watched 
every  hour,  and  I  am  told  there  is  hope,  and  that  it  is  a 
mere  qaestion  of  time.  Can  the  vessel  weather  the  long 
storm  ? 

"  Tlie  mental  history  of  this  time  to  me  is  unparalleled. 
First  the  awful  nervousness  ;  then  the  soul  battle,  then 
the  peace  ;  the  doubts,  fears,  agonies  !  and  this  day  peace 
- — perfect  peace." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  Beloved  John  Campbell  and  Dr.  Macduff  have  been  a 
great  strength  and  stay. 

"It  is  hard  to  describe  my  feelings.  I  now  hope,  yet 
fear  lest  for  one  moment  I  should  be  kept  off  the  one  life, 
the  living  God !  I  have  resigned  her  into  His  hands. 
I  know  He  will  prepare  me,  for  I  desire  first  (as  fiir 
as  I  know)  that  His  kingdom  shall  come  in  me  and  by 
me.  Then,  on  the  other  hand,  should  she  be  Q-iven  back  ! 
A  solemn  battle  has  then  to  be  fought  vvhetlier  or  not  I 
shall  attempt  to  rebuild  my  house  or  die  daily.  I  feel 
that  God's  grace  will  be  required  just  as  much  for  me  it 
the  precious  gift  is  restored  as  if  taken  away. 

"  Lord,  undertake  for  us.  Thou  seest  our  strength  is 
gone.      We  lean  on  Thee,  mighty  and  merciful  one." 

To  his  Sister  Jane  : — 

"  Saturday  night  and  Sunday  morning  was  my  third 
burial  of  her.  I  gave  her  up  again,  and  the  third  was 
more  than  the  first.  God  alone  knows  what  such  a  night 
is.  Yet  His  grace  has  been  more  than  sufficient,  and  I 
hope  I  have  been  taught  what  years  have  failed  to  do. 

"  You  see,  dear,  what  a  trying  time  it  is,  and  you  cannot 
wonder  if  the  tension  of  the  brain  should  make  mine 
very  hot  at  times. 

"  Everything  is  confusion — night  and  day  mingled." 

From  his  JouRNAi  : — 

"  Thursday. — All  going  on  well. 

"  I  hardly  know  what  I  think.     The  apparent  actual 


70  LIFE  OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

return  to  health  does  not  at  all  affoct  me  as  its  hopes  did, 
for  these  quite  convulsed  me,  while  the  reality  only  aftects 
me  hy  producing  a  sense  of  deep  calm  and  thanksgiving. 

"  Certainly  this  has  been  without  comparison  the  most 
solemn  period  of  my  life.  Never  have  I  so  realised  sorrow. 
I  am  anxious  to  gather  up  the  fragments  in  any  manner, 
however  confused.  I  should  like,  if  possible,  to  meet  and 
sympathize  with  God  in  His  teaching,  lest  it  be  lost — to 
understand  what  the  will  of  the  Lord  is,  and  what  is  His 
loving  kindness. 

"  God  was  teaching  me  (1)  Avhere  my  true  life  ought 
to  be — in  Him,  and  in  Him  only.  (2)  The  sufficiency  of 
His  grace,  to  support  and  give  peace  in  the  most  trying 
hour.  (3)  How  beautiful  His  will  is — how  right  it  is 
that  His  glory  should  be  the  grand  end  of  creation,  and 
the  sole  ambition  of  the  spirit  of  man.  (4)  How  I  de- 
served to  be,  not  chastised,  but  punished  for  sin  ;  and 
how  hard  it  Avas  for  one  who  trusted  in  '  riches '  to  enter 
into  the  kingdom,  or  to  sell  all  and  follow  Him  ! 

"  But  my  comforting  thoughts  were — 

"  (1)  God's  glory.  What  Avas  right  and  beautiful  in 
His  sight  Avas  often  very  consoling.  (2)  That  -Fesus  Avas 
in  the  house,  and  saw  all,  planned  all,  and  Avould  do  all 
most  tenderly,  lovingly,  and  Avisely.  (3)  That  there  was 
no  depth  to  Avhich  He  had  not  descended.  If  I  made  my 
bed  in  hell,  He  Avas  there.  I  Avas  much  touched  by  the 
22nd  Psalm,  in  Avhich,  after  uttering  His  own  deejj  sorroAV 
('  My  God,'  &c.)  and  recounting  hoAv  our  fathers  had  trusted 
(^d.  He  says,  'But  I  am  a  Avorm,  and  no  man!'  Think 
of  that !  As  if  His  case  AA-as  too  desperate.  (4)  That 
patience  must  have  her  perfect  Avork,  a  id  that  faith  must 
be  tried  and  found  precious.  (.5)  That  God  Avished  me  as 
a  child  to  open  my  whole  heart  and  tell  Him  everything. 
When  David  Avas  told  by  Nathan  that  his  child  should  die, 
he  still  prayed  to  God  for  its  recovery.  '  I  doubt  not,* 
says  Hall  so  beautifully.  '  God  His  Father  took  it  kindly.' 
(6)  That  God  Avas  feeling  keenly  for  me,  even  Avhen  a  diet- 
ing me.  As  I  heard  of  a  father  Avho  used  to  sutler  agony 
in  dressing  the  Avounds  of  his  child  ;  yet  his  love  alone 
enabled  him  to  do  it,  w  liiU'  putting  her  to  so  nnuli  piiin. 


1857— '859-  7' 

"  I  have  met  extraordinary  and  wondrous  sympnth}'- ;  it 
utterly  amazes  me,  and  has  given  me  a  new  and  most 
touching  view  of  my  neighbour.  Hundreds  called  to  read 
the  daily  bulletin  which  I  was  obliged  to  put  up.  But 
everywhere  it  Avas  the  same.  Free -Church  people  and 
peo^^le  of  all  Churches  called ;  men  I  never  spoke  to 
stopped  me  ;  cab-drivers,  bus-drivers,  working  men  in  the 
streets  asked  after  her  with  such  feeling.  I  have  heard 
of  ministers  in  Edinburgh  praying  in  public  for  us,  I 
j)ray  God  this  may  be  a  lesson  for  life  to  make  me  most 
tender,  meek,  kind,  and  charitable  to  all  men.  0  God, 
keep  my  heart  soft  towards  my  brethren  of  mankind.  I 
never  could  have  believed  in  such  unselfishness.  And  so 
I  have  felt  its  good,  for  my  heart  warms  to  all  good  men 
more  than  ever,  and  more  deej)ly  do  I  hate  and  loathe 
sectarianism. 

"  I  have  had  inexpressibly  solemn  teaching  from  my  own 
semions.  How  solemnly  have  they  preached  to  me  !  Such 
as  the  first,  on  '  Raising  of  Lazarus,'  *  and  my  article 
written,  without  thought  of  this  sorrow,  for  the  December 
number  of  the  Christian  Magazine.  O  my  Father,  I 
desire  to  learn  to  speak  with  deep  awe  and  modesty,  as  one 
to  whom  Thou  mayest  address  his  own  words. 

"  The  difference  between  preaching  and  knowing  by  ex- 
perience in  affliction,  is, as  great  as  between  being  a  soldier 
in  peace  and  fighting  at  reviews,  and  a  soldier  in  war  and 
actual  battle, 

"  How  awful  the  trial  is  of  even  the  hope  of  returning 
'  prosperity.'  It  is  not— Oh  no  ! — as  if  my  Father  grudged 
to  make  me  happy,  or  as  if  affliction  was  His  rule,  and  not 
His  strange  work  ;  but  I  know  that  in  His  love  he  has 
been  designing  good  for  me — life,  and  life  more  abun- 
dantly ;  that  to  produce  this  He  has  sent  sorrow  ;  that 
His  purpose  has  not  been  hid  from  me,  but  that  I  have 
seen  it  and  approved  of  its  righteousness  ;  and  that  in 
answer  to  prayers,  many  and  fervent,  from  His  people, 
who  desired  first  that  He  should  be  glorified,  He  has  been 
pleased  to  remove  (in  hope  as  yet)  this  great  sorrow.      I 

*  Afterwards  published  under  the  title,  "  The  Mystery  of  Sorrow," 
in  "Parish  Papers." 


72  LIFE  OF  ?WRMAN  MACLEOD. 

feel  it  will  be  a  temble  loss,  an  abuse  of  God's  gTace» 
a  nx-eiving  of  it  in  altiietion  in  vain,  unless  uiy  life  is  re- 
baptized,  our  relationship  far  more  inner  and  spiritual,  and 
our  walk  more  in  the  light  of  heaven.  I  have  Ijeen  called 
to  a  higher,  purer,  nobler  life.  I  have  had  three  burials 
of  her,  and  on  each  occasion  Jesus  seemed  to  say,  '  Lovest 
thou  me  more  than  her?'  and  thrice  he  has  given  her 
back,  but  with  the  awful  reservation,  '  Follow  thou  me,' 
*  Feed  my  sheep.'  And  now  I  feel  God's  grace  is  required 
for  each  day  ;  for  what  should  my  future  life  be  ?  not  an 
occasional  funeral,  but  a  daily  dying ! 

"  O  God  omnipotent !  let  Thy  strength  be  perfected  in 
my  Aveakness." 

"Friday. — I  am  still  full  of  anxiety,  and  feel  the  rod 
yet  on  me.  Father,  let  patience  have  her  perfect  work, 
and  prepare  me  to  meet  as  a  child  all  the  changes  of  Thy 
providence.  Remember  I  am  dust,  and  help  me  according 
to  the  riches  of  thy  grace  ! 

"  The  same.    My  hope  is  in  Thee — in  Thee  only.     God 

sustain.      Undertake  for  me,  my  Father ! 

-r?  -;;-  -Vr  %  ^  * 

"  The  Doctor  has  just  left  me,  and  he  says,  '  Well,  I 
think  all  is  safe.'  This  I  have  been  hoping  for  during  the 
last  week.      With  what  feelings  do  I  receive  the  news  ? 

"What  means  this?  I  have  i:iever  shed  a  tear  of  joy, 
I  who  was  wrung  with  grief,  and  could  not,  in  pros])ect, 
bear  the  light  of  deliverance — who  was  crushed  by  the  bare 
idea,  '  maybe  she  will  yet  get  better  ! '  Yet  I  have  never 
felt  a  turob,  or  the  least  of  that  excitement  or  tunuilt  or 
leap  of  the  heart  which  would  seem  so  natural.  Whore- 
fore  ?  I  really  know  not.  Is  it  the  body,  and  collapse 
from  over  excitement  ?  The  Lord  knoweth  !  But  I  shall 
not  work  myself  up  to  an  outward  form  of  what  might 
seem  to  be  the  right  thing,  but  seek  to  be  led  by  God 
into  that  state  of  spirit  which  is  becoming  in  His  sight. 
I  feel  as  in  a  dream. 

"  Monday,  2\st. — This  day  Sir  George  Grey  informs  me 
I  am  made  a  Chaplain  to  the  Queen." 


1857—1859-  73 

To  Mr.  Waddell  (a  Member  of  the  Session,  on  the  death  of  his  eldest 
child)  :— 

Saturday,  I2th  Dec,  1857. 

"  I  most  deeply  feel  witli  you,  my  afflicted  brother. 
God  will  enable  you  by-and-by,  if  not  in  the  first  dark- 
ness of  the  affliction,  to  know  that  it  is  a  Father  who  sends 
the  trial ;  and  from  your  own  tender  love  to  your  child  you 
can  in  some  degree  realise  the  deej)  mystery  of  a  Father's 
love  to  yourselves,  and  in  your  own  hearts  see  a  dim  reflec- 
tion of  that  love  which  passeth  all  understanding.  You  will 
remember,  too,  with  new  feelings,  how  His  own  well-beloved 
Son  was  a  man  of  sorrows,  how  (see  the  22nd  Psalm)  there 
was  no  depth  but  He  Himself  was  in  a  lower ;  how  He  is 
thus  able  to  carry  our  burdens,  understand  us,  feel  for  us 
and  with  us  as  a  brother.  You  will  be  tausfht  also  how 
God  is  seeking  our  whole  hearts,  and  will  put  us  to  pain 
even  at  the  moment  of  our  greatest  earthly  happiness,  just 
because  it  is  then  we  are  most  apt  to  forsake  Him  as  our 
eternal  life,  and  to  seek  life  in  the  creature.  Nay,  He  will 
teach  you  to  see  how  deep  and  true  that  love  is  which  wiU 
give  pain  to  those  dearly  loved  in  order  that  they  shall 
not  lose  a  full  blessing,  but  see  life'  more  abundantly. 

"  I  feel  assured  that  God  is  dealing  towards  you  in  great 
love,  though  it  is  hard  to  see  it  at  first,  and  most  trying  to 
flesh  and  blood  to  say  Amen  to  this  discipline  by  the  cross. 
But  do  not  go  away  sorrowful  from  Him !  Hold  fast  your 
confidence.  His  purpose  is  mercy,  and  good.  Seek  first 
of  all,  that  His  will  should  be  done  in  you,  His  purpose 
of  good  be  realised  by  you.  Your  child  is  certainly 
with  One  Who  is  more  gentle,  tender,  and  loving  than  a 
mother — One  Who  was  a  child,  Who  knows  a  child's  heart, 
Who  was  in  a  mother's  arms.  Your  babe  will  be  trained 
up  in  a  glorious  school  ;  when  you  meet  she  will  be  a  fit 
companion  for  you,  and  rejoice  with  you  for  ever. 

"  I  have  myself  during  these  four  weeks  endured  the 
greatest  sorrow  I  ever  experienced  in  life.  I  twice  gave  up 
my  beloved  wife  to  the  Lord.  I  can  witness  to  you  of  the 
power  of  God's  grace  to  give  peace  in  the  darkest  hour, 
and  of  how  affliction  is  indeed  sent  for  our  '  profit/  that 
we  might  be  partakers  of  His  holiness." 


74  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  Jouknal  : — 

''March  15,  1858. — It  is  this  day  twenty  years  ago 
that  I  Avas  ordained  minister  of  Loudoun  !  I  bless  God 
for  calling  me  to  the  ministry  as  He  did  my  father  and 
grandfather  before  me,  and  for  giving  me  a  place  in  my 
nation's  Church.  Donald  is  to  be  ordained  on  Thursday, 
and  I  introduce  him  on  Sunday." 

To  the  Eev.  W.  F.  Stevenson  (on  his  recovery  from  fever)  : — 

March  2ith,  1858. 

"  I  do  not  know  from  experience  what  a  man's  feehngs 
are  when  coming  out  of  such  a  death  in  life  as  you  have 
jiassed  through,  but  from  what  I  personally  know  of  sorrow, 
or  escapes  from  danger,  there  is  little  of  that  joy  or  excite- 
ment of  any  kind  which  most  people  picture  to  themselves. 
I  have  always  felt  my  nervous  system  exhausted,  my  feel- 
ings listless,  my  intellect  dull,  and  my  moral  being  shut 
up  to  a  quiet  thankfulness,  a  simple  leaning  on  Christ, 
Avith  little  more  in  my  mind  than  that  I  Avas  nothing  and 
He  was  all,  and  no  stronger  desire  than  henceforth  to  be 
kept  by  Him  and  in  Him.  Everything  about  our  Ich-heit 
is  so  l)ase,  earthy,  mean.  He  must  be  all  in  all.  Yet  how 
difficult  and  perplexing  a  thing  to  the  vain,  proud,  self- 
willed  man  is  the  simplicity  Avhich  is  in  Christ !" 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  ^[2^1  5. — On  Sunday  night  I  finished  my  second 
winter's  course  of  sermons  to  the  workhig  classes.  The 
church  Avas  full.  I  preached  about  an  hour  and  a  half  to 
them.  Yet  though  I  had  preaclied  twice  during  the  day, 
I  felt  as  if  I  could  have  gone  on  till  midnight.  There  is 
something  overpoAveringiy  interesting  in  seeing  fourteen 
lumdred  people  in  their  poor  clothes  drinking  in  the  Avord  ! 
I  never  preach  as  I  do  to  them.  I  leel  Avhat  it  is  to  be  an 
evangelist. 

"  Last  niij^ht  I  had  a  meetinof  of  niA'  old  communicants, 
and  a  very  delightful  one  it  Avas. 

"  I  admitted  a  year  ago  sixty -nine  to  the  communion 


iSs7—iS-.q.  7  5 

for  the  first  time.  These  sat  down  at  a  separate  service, 
in  their  working  clothes.  At  the  next  communion  u})wartls 
of  twenty  had  got  clothes,  and  joined  other  churches,  as 
1  had  no  sittings  for  them.  A  large  number,  about  twenty, 
J  think,  sat  down  in  their  working  clothes.  At  my  ordi- 
nary communion  others  had  got  good  clothes.  Now  I  find 
that,  with  the  exception  of  nine,  all  are  attending  church, 
fit  to  join  at  the  ordinary  communion.  These  nine  are  too 
nuich  in  difficulty  from  Avant  of  work  to  get  good  clothes 
yet.  They  Avill  sit  down  in  their  working  clothes.  I  have 
steadfastly  kept  aloof  from  giving  clothes,  lest  it  should  be 
looked  on  as  a  bribe  and  injure  themselves  and  others. 
See  the  result ! 

"  I  am  now  collecting  for  my  Mission  Church  at  Kelvin- 
haugh,  and  God  is  greatly  blessing  me  m  it.   T.  G.  A." 

He  was  made  deeply  thankful  by  receiving  from 
the  working  men  themselves,  on  more  than  one 
occasion,  such  testimonies  as  the  following  to  the 
benefit  they  had  derived  from  his  teaching  : — 

"  .  .  .  .  We  thank  God  for  having  led  yon  in  the 
midst  of  your  multifarious  and  onerous  duties  to  think  of 
us,  and  we  thank  you  for  having  been  the  willing  instru- 
ment in  His  hand  of  first  rousing  us  from  our  inditi'erence, 
and  leading  us  to  take  a  manly  and  straightforward  view 
of  our  condition.  Though  the  novelty  which  at  first 
attached  to  these  meetings  has  passed  away,  some  of  us 
know  that  their  influence  for  good  has  been  most  enduring. 
....  Not  content  with  bringing  us,  as  it  Avere,  to  the 
entrance  of  the  Saviour's  Church  and  leaving  us  to  go  in 
or  return  as  we  pleased,  you  have  led  us  into  the  great 
congreGfation  of  His  saints  on  earth,  and  have  invited  us  to 
take  our  places  among  our  fellow-believers  at  the  Lord's 
table,  so  that  we  might  enjoy  similar  privileges  with  them. 
Those  of  us  who  have  accepted  this  invitation  have  nothing 
of  this  world's  goods  to  offer  you  in  return,  but  we  shall 
retain  a  life-long  gratitude  for  your  kindness — a  gratitude 
which   shall  be    continued  when  we   shall   meet  in    that 


76  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

eternal  world  which  lies   beyond  the  grave "We 

beg  you  will  accept  of  these  expressions  of  gratitude  in 
place  of  '  the  silver  and  gold '  of  Avhich  '  we  have  none,' 
and  we  subscribe  ourselves,  with  much  regard, 

"The  Working  Men." 


A  working  man,  who  signs  his  own  name  '  on 
behalf  of  a  number  of  others,'  writes — 

"  We  are  not  aware  whether  you  know  of  any  case  in 
which  your  labours  have  been  successful  in  arousing  the 
careless,  and  in  effecting  reformation  in  character  and  dis- 
position  ;  if  not,  we  can  assure  you  that  such  instances 
are  not  rare,  as  even  in  our  own  neighbourhood  many 
have  been  brought,  through  your  instrumentality  under  God, 
to  bethink  themselves  and  mend  then-  ways." 


From  bis  Jourxal  : — 

"April  30.  — The  University  of  Glasgow  has  this  day 
conferred  the  honour  on  me  of  the  degree  of  D.D.  How 
sad  it  makes  me  !  I  feel  as  if  they  had  stamped  me  with 
old  age,  and  that  it  was  a  great  cataract  in  the  stream  lead- 
ing more  rapidly  to  '  the  unfathomable  gulf  where  all  is 
still'  And  it  is  so.  I  have  at  best  but  a  short  time  for 
work.  O  my  God,  brace  every  nerve  of  my  soul  by  Thy 
mighty  Spirit  that  I  may  glorify  Thee  on  earth,  and  as  a 
faithful  servant  redeem  the  time  and  finish  the  Avork  which 
Thou  hast  given  me  to  do  ! " 


To  the  Eev.  J.  E.  Gumming  : — 

2nd  June,  185S. 

"  1  have  not  myself  found  travelling  congenial  to  much 
inner  work.  The  outer  world  of  persons  and  things  I 
always  relished  so  intensely  that  I  required  an  extra  effort 
to  keep  to  quiet  reading  and  prayer.  One  possesses  such 
an  '  abundance  of  things,'  that  they  are  apt  to  become  '  the 
life '  for  the  time.  Tmt  I  doubt  not  that  the  sobriety  of 
weak  health  may  act  as  a  counter[»oise,  keeping  the   soul 


>0/ 


■1850.  77 


in  hourly  remembrance  of  its  trie  and  abiding  life.  I 
have  no  doubt  you  will  find  a  blessing  in  going  thus  to 
'  rest  awhile.'  It  is  good  to  be  made  to  feel  how  God's 
work  can  go  on  without  us,  and  to  be  able  to  review  from 
without  our  past  Avork,  and  to  be  more  cast  on  God  Him- 
self, and  thus  be  more  emptied  of  our  own  vain  selves. 

"  When  we  are  weak,  then  are  we  strong.  The  least 
nre  the  greatest.  I  pray  you  may  every  day  be  drawn 
nearer  Christ,  and  return  to  us  stronger  in  body  and  soul." 


From  his  Journal  : — 

"  June  3,  again !  — I  am  now  forty-six,  and  the  future 
uncertain  !  And  so  this  life  of  mine,  which  seems  to  me 
about  to  begin,  is  fast  ending !  I  declare  it  makes  the 
perspiration  break  out  on  my  brow.  Oh,  cursed  idleness, 
desultory  study,  want  of  hard  reading  and  accurate  scholar- 
sliip  when  young, — this  has  been  a  grievous  evil,  a  heavy 
burthen  to  me  all  my  life  !  I  have  wanted  tools  for  my 
mental  powers.  Had  my  resources  been  trained  by  art,  so 
tliat  they  could  have  been  Avisely  directed  during  my  past 
life,  I  feel  that  I  could  have  done  something  to  have  made 
me  look  back  with  more  satisfaction  on  these  bygone  years. 

"  0  my  Father,  if  I  but  felt  assured  that  I  should  be  a 
little  child,  then  would  I  never  mourn  the  loss  of  my  first 
chiidliood,  nor  fear  the  coming  on  of  my  old  age  ! 

"  Glory  to  Thee  now  and  for  ever  that  I  have  been  born 
twice  in  Thy  kingdom  !" 


To  Mrs.   MACLEOD    (during  her  absence  with    his  family   in   the 
countrj^) : — 

The  Study,  Juhj  2Gth,  1858. 

"  Why  do  you  leave  me  here  to  be  devoured  Avith  rats 
and  grief  ?  The  house  is  horrible.  I  am  afraid  of  ghosts. 
The  doors  creak  in  a  way  that  indicates  a  clear  con- 
nection Avith  the  unseen  AA^orld.  There  are  noises  too. 
How  sloAV  must  Hades  be  if  spirits  find  Woodlands  Terrace 
at  this  season  more  exciting !  How  idle  they  must  be  if 
to  frighten  a  parson  is  their  most  urgent  Avork  !      And  yet 


78 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD 


on  my  honour  I  believe  there  is  one  going  ai  this  moment 
w^  the  stairs." 


m 


From  his  JorniXAL  : — 

"  September  6. — I  have  been  too  busy  to  be  at  rest  with 
my  family  at  Elie.  I  start  to-day  with  Leitch  '"'  for  a  dash 
into  Switzerland.  May  God  guide  me  and  keep  me  holy 
and  wise,  that  I  may  return  home  fit  in  mind  and  body 
tor  my  winter  work  !" 


To  Mrs.  MACLEOD : — 


Paris. 


"  Drove  to  Bois  de  Boulogne,  paid  considerably,  and 
saw  nothing  but  the  driver's  back.  My  money  <'oq.s  as 
usual — like  snow.  Mammon  was  no  doubt  a  Cx\il  ;  he 
enters  into  the  coin,  and  it  rushes  down  steep  places  for 
ever  into  the  abyss,  and  never  returns.  Best  love  to  my 
mother,  who,  were  she  here,  would  go  on  the  stage,  or 
think  she  was  dead,  or  if  not,  that  the  Champs  Elys^es 
were  theologically  so." 


Zurich,  Friday,  10th  September,  1858. 
"  At  Basle  I  called  for  Auberlen.    We  spent  the  rest  of 
our  time  in  the  Institution  for  training  !>Iissionaries,  and 
liad  all  my  principles  confirmed  and  illustrated. 

*  The  late  Principal  Leitch. 


1857—1859- 


79 


"  Had  a  most  exquisite  drive  by  railway  to  this  jilace. 
As  we  were  crossing  a  valley,  the  range  of  Bernese  Alps 
burst  suddenly  on  our  sight,  every  mountain-side  and  peak 
gleaming  on  their  western  sides  with  the  intense  furbished 
gold  we  saw  at  Mont  Blanc.  I  gave  a  cry  of  wonder  and 
joy  that  started  the  whole  carriage — all  but  a  Cocloiey, 
who  kept  reading  all  the  time  a  Swiss  guide-book.  I  shall 
never  forget  that  second  introduction  to  the  Alj^s.  When 
Ave  arrived  at  Zurich  we  drove  to  the  old  hotel ;  but  we 
did  not  look  fine  enough,  and  only  a  double-bedded  room 
■was  offered,  and  refused.  Angry  at  this,  I  would  not  go 
to  the  ?jaur,  but  came  out  at  the  first  hotel  the  'bus 
stopped  at.  This  Gasthof,  you  must  know,  presents  to  the 
Gasse  but  one  enormous  gable  with  seven  stories,  covered 
by  a  projecting  roof  Within,  it  contains  a  combination  of 
short  stairs, -passages,  kitchens,  bedrooms,  and  eating-rooms, 
utterly  indescribable  as  to  their  relative  positions. 

"  There  is  a  daily  paper  with  the  names  of  all  the  hotels 
and  their  guests.  I  see  in  ours  '  8  Ililitdr.'  These  are 
common  soldiers  ;  the  town  is  full  of  them,  and  a  dozen  are 
billeted  in  our  lobb}^  I  hear  the  drummer  practising  in 
the  Speise  Saal.     At  first  I  was  disposed  to  be  sulky,  but 


Boss  so  thoroughly  enjoys  it,  and  is  so  thankful  for  having 
come  to  this  sort  of  hotel,  that  he  has  brought  me  to  his 
own  mind.  My  window  commands  a  glorious  view  of  the 
lake,  and  the  roofs  of  half  the  houses.  Well,  I  find  I 
am  nowhere  so  happy  as  at  home.  Very  truly  I  say  that, 
even  here.  My  own  fireside  and  my  home  parish  work 
are  the  circles  within  which  is  my  earthly  Paradise." 


8o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Ragatz,  12</i  Frpteviher. 

"  Tho  baths  of  Pfeffers  are,  I  tliink,  in  their  way,  the 
most  wonderful  scone  I  ever  beheld.  Conceive  a  huge 
fissure  about  hve  hundred  feet  deep  ;  the  edges  at  the  top 
uniting  like  two  saws — now  in  contact,  and  then  an  open 
hole  through  which  you  see  the  blue  sky  and  the  intense 
green  trees  waving  in  light  some  hundreds  of  feet  above 
you — fifty  feet  below,  the  raging  stream.  It  is  a  wondrous 
gorge  that!  We  ascended  by  a  zig-zag  path  about  a  mile 
higher,  and  came  np  to  the  pastures.  Oh  !  what  a  sight 
of  green  uplands,  villages,  church  steeples,  ranges  of 
precipices,  snowy  peaks,  mountains  lighted  up  with  the 
setting  sun,  and  what  tinkling  of  hundreds  of  goat-bells  ! 
I  could  have  sat  down  and  wept.  As  it  was,  I  lifted  up  my 
heart  in  prayer,  and  blessed  God  for  this  one  glorious 
sight,  and  1  felt  I  could  return  home  with  thankfulness." 

Canxstadt,  20th  Sf^tcmher,  1858. 

"  I  preached  yesterday  forenoon  in  Stuttgart,  and  in  the 
afternoon  here.  The  Euglish  clergyman  read  the  Hturgy 
in  the  morniui?.  The  congregation  excellent  ;  afternoon 
crammed.  I  know  not  when  I  felt  a  Sabbath  more  truly 
joeaceful,  happy,  and  profitable  to  myself,  and  I  hope  and 
believe  also  to  others.  Walked  by  moonlight  along  the 
old  street,  stood  before  the  house,  went  to  my  old  2^ost '"' 
beyond  Hermann's  Hotel ;  recalled  all  the  past  year  we 
■were  there  with  its  dark  sorrows  and  great  joj-s,  the  jiast 
eight  years  with  its  constant  sunlight ;  prayed,  and  loolced 
up  to  the  old  stars  which  shone  on  me,  and  brought  me 
then  such  true  light  in  the  same  si)ot. 

"  I  had  great  delight  in  preaching,  and  had  such  a 
vivid  realisation  of  our  dear  one's  life  in  heaven  and  his 
hearty  realisation  of  that  '  kingdom  and  glory,'  which  I 
feebly  attempted  to  express." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"September  27th,  1858. — I  have  this  day  returned, 
refreshed  and  invigorated  in  mind,  spirit,  and  body. 

*  The  poiut  to  which  he  and  John  Mackintosh  walked  every  day. 


i857— 1?59-  81 

"  My  route  was  London,  Paris,  Basle,  Zurich,  Wallcn-stadt, 
Ragatz,  Pfeffers,  Bellinzona,  Isola  Bella,  back  by  St.  Goth- 
ard.  Lucerne,  Zurich,  Cannstadt,  Heidelberg,  Mannheim, 
the  Rliine,  Rotterdam,  Leith.  Time,  three  weeks.  Cost, 
£23  10s.    Gain,  undying  memories,  health,  and  haj^piness." 

"  November  '1. — On  my  return  I  found  the  command 
of  the  Queen  awaiting  me  to  preach  again  at  Balmoral. 
Preached  in  peace  and  without  notes.  After  dinner  the 
Queen  sent  for  me.  She  always  strikes  me  as  possessed 
of  singular  penetration,  firmness,  and  independence,  and 
very  real.  She  was  personally  singularly  kind,  and  I  never 
spoke  my  mind  more  frankly  to  any  one  who  was  a  stranger 
and  not  on  an  equal  footing. 

"  .  .  .  .  The  a^jitation  renewed  anent  non-intrusion. 
No  reform  requiring  an  Act  of  Parliament  will  interest  me 
unless  it  unites  Presbytorianism  in  Scotland.  That  is  the 
thing  to  be  sou^dit." 

*' January  16. 's  birthday.       God  bless  my 

child !  Make  her  simple,  earnest,  true,  and,  above  all 
other  things  in  the  universe,  Father,  give  her  love  to 
Thee,  that  in  all  her  difficulties  she  may  consult  Thee  and 
yield  to  what  her  conscience  tells  her  to  be  right,  that  in 
all  her  trials  she  may  trust  Thee  and  honour  Thee  by 
g'race,  and  that  she  may  ever  seek  to  please  her  Saviour  in 
soul,  spirit,  and  body,  which  are  His !  Hear  us,  our  God, 
who  daily  pray  for  our  beloved  children  whom  Thou  hast 
given  us  in  Thy  great  love.     Amen!" 


The  centenary  celebration  of  the  birth  of  Robert 
Burns  created  immense  excitement  in  almost  every 
region  of  the  earth  where  Scotchmen  could  congre- 
gate, and  in  the  poet's  native  land  was  the  signal  for 
the  outbreak  of  a  bitter  war  between  the  pulpit  and 
the  press.  There  were  fanatics  on  both  sides.  Ad- 
mirers of  the  poet  would  not  brook  exception  being 
taken  to  their  hero-worship  ;  this  provoked,  on  the 
opposite  side,  unmeasured  abuse  of  his  character  and 

VOL.  n.  a 


82  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

iiitlucncc.  The  sucrc  1  name  of  religion  ^^■as  so  con- 
stantly  invoked  in  the  quarrel,  that  no  clergyman 
could  take  part  in  the  festival  without  risk  to  his 
reputation.  Norman  Macleod,  however,  felt  it  would 
he  unmanly  not  to  speak  what  he  believed,  and,  ac- 
cordingly, accepted  the  invitation  which  had  been 
sent  him  to  appear  at  the  Glasgow  Celebration.  As 
he  was  the  only  clergyman  on  the  platform,  his 
presence  was  greeted  with  unusual  cheering.  Every 
word  he  uttered  in  praise  of  the  poet  was,  as  might 
have  been  expected,  loudly  applauded ;  but  as  he  had 
come  to  utter  his  convictions,  he  was  quite  prepared 
for  the  storm  of  hissing,  mingled  Avith  cheers,  which 
arose  as  he  adverted,  delicately  but  firmly,  to  those 
features  of  the  poet's  productions  which  every  reli- 
gious mind  must  deplore.  His  speech  was  a  vindi- 
cation of  his  own  position  as  a  Scotchman  and  a 
clergyman,  and  before  he  concluded  the  audience 
showed  how  heartily  they  appreciated  his  indepen- 
dence and  honesty. 

"  There  are  two  things,"  he  said,  "  which  to  me  make 
Bums  sufficiently  memorable.  One  is,  his  noble  })rotest 
for  the  independence  and  dignity  of  humanity,  as  expressed, 
for  example,  in  that  heroic  song,  '  A  man's  a  man  for  a' 
that.'  Another  is,  his  intense  nationality — a  noble  sen- 
timent, springing,  like  a  plant  deeply  rooted  for  ages  in 
the  soil,  and  bearing  fruit  which  nourislies  the  nuuiliest 
virtues  of  a  people.  Few  men  have  done  for  any  country 
in  this  respect  what  Burns  has  done  for  Scotland.  He  has 
ma(l(3  our  Doric  for  ever  poetical.  Everything  in  our  land, 
touched  with  the  wand  of  his  genius,  will  for  ever  retain 
the  new  interest  and  beauty  which  he  has  imparted  to  it. 
Never  Avill  the  '  banks  and  braes  of  bonnie  Doon '  cease  to 
be  '  fresh  and  fair,'  nor  the  '  birks  of  Aberfeldy '  to  hang 


iF5  — i^S9-  83 

their  tresses  in  the  bright  atmosphere  of  his  song.  He 
has  even  persuaded  Scotchmen  '  o'  a'  the  airts  the  wind 
can  blaw '  most  dearly  to  '  lo'e  the  west,'  though  it  comes 
loaded  to  us,  who  live  in  the  west,  only  with  the  soft 
favours  of  a  'Scotch  mist.'  So  possessed  are  even  rail- 
Avay  directors  and  rough  mechanics  by  his  presence  and 
his  power,  that  they  send  '  Tarn  o'  Shanter '  and  '  Souter 
Johnnie '  as  locomotives,  roaring  and  whistling  through  the 
land  that  is  called  by  his  name,  and  immortalised  by  his 
genius.  How  marvellously  has  he  welded  the  hearts  of 
Scotchmen  throughout  the  world.  Without  him  they  would, 
no  doubt,  be  united  by  the  ordinary  bonds  of  a  common 
country  that  cannot  anywhere  be  forgotten — a  common 
tongue  that  cannot  anywhere  be  easily  mistaken — and  by 
mercantile  pursuits  in  which  they  cannot  anywhere  be 
wanted.  But  still  these  ties  would  be  like  the  cold  hard 
cable  that  connects  the  Old  and  New  World  beneath  the 
Atlantic.  The  songs  of  Burns  are  the  electric  sparks  which 
flash  along  it  and  give  it  life  ;  and  '  though  seas  between 
us  may  be  cast,'  these  unite  heart  and  heart,  so  that  as 
long  as  they  exist,  Scotchmen  can  never  forget  '  auld 
acquaintance,'  nor  the  '  daj^s  o'  lang  syne.'  And  yet, 
how  can  a  clergyman,  of  all  men,  forget  or  fail  to  express 
his  deep  sorrow  on  such  an  occasion  as  the  present  for 
some  things  that  Burns  has  Avritten,  and  which  deserve  the 
uncompromising  condemnation  of  those  who  love  him 
best  ?  I  am  not  called  upon  to  pass  any  judgment  on  him 
as  a  man,  but  only  as  a  writer  ;  and  with  reference  to 
some  of  his  poems,  from  my  heart  I  say  it — for  his  own 
sake,  for  the  sake  of  my  country,  for  the  sake  of  righteous- 
ness more  than  all — would  God  they  Avere  never  written, 
never  printed,  and  never  read !  And  I  should  rejoice  to 
see,  as  the  result  of  these  festivals  in  honour  of  Burns,  a 
centenary  edition  of  his  poems,  from  which  everything 
would  be  excluded  which  a  Christian  father  could  not  read 
aloud  in  his  family  circle,  or  the  Christian  cottar  on  his 
*  Saturday  night '  to  his  sons  and  daughters.  One  thing  I 
feel  assured  of,  is,  that  righteously  to  condemn  whatever 
is  inconsistent  with  purity  and  piety,  while  it  cannot  lessen 
one  ray  of  his  genius,  is  at  once  the  best  proof  we  can  give 

G  2 


84  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  .IfACLEOD. 

of  our  regiinl  for  his  memory  If  his  spirit  is  cognizant  ol 
what  is  done  upon  earth,  most  certainly  such  a  judgment 
must  be  in  accordance  with  its  most  solemn  conviction  and 
most  earnest  wishes."* 


Some  influential  members  of  the  Presbytery  of 
Glasgow  at  this  time  moved  an  'overture'  (as  a  formal 
representation  is  called)  to  the  General  Assembly  on 
the  subject  of  Lay  Patronage.  At  once  perceiving  the 
importance  of  the  question  thus  raised,  he  supported 
the  proposal  in  a  long  speech,  and  it  is  interesting,  in 
the  light  of  more  recent  Scottish  ecclesiastical  history, 
to  notice  the  care  with  which  he  had  already  weighed 
the  difhculties  besetting  the  policy,  in  which  he  was 
afterwards  to  take  a  conspicuous  lead. 

" ....  I  dare  not  conceal  my  own  honest  convictions 
of  the  extreme  difficulty  of  getting  a  hearing  in  Parliament, 
a  conviction  strengthened  when  I  think  that,  in  1843,  we 

♦  He  afterwards  received  the  foHowinf^  characteristic  letter  of 
thanks  from  the  late  ahle  and  lamented  Dr.  Duncan,  Professor  of 
Hebrew  in  the  Free  Church  College,  Edinburgh. 

29//i  January,  1859. 

"  I  have  just  read  with  delight  the  extract  from  your  speech  at  the 
Burns  Centenary  Meeting.  The  works  of  Burns  are  a  ])ower  whose 
influence  is  to  be  felt,  and  will  continue  to  be  fso,  in  this  coui;try  and 
beyond  it ;  a  very  mixed  one  it  is  true.  In  all  such  things  we  are  bid 
to  choose  the  good  (tlninkfully,  as  all  good  is  of  God)  and  refuse  tlie 
evil.  'Abhor  that  which  is  evil  and  cleave  to  that  which  is  good.'  I 
Ciin  deejily  synipalliize  with  the  moral  tone  of  feeling  which  turns  from 
the  whole  with  the  loathing  which  the  smell  of  the  dead  fly  causes — 
the  miasma  which  it  sjueads.  I  cannot,  however,  think  that  the  zeal 
of  some  '  abounds  in  all  wisdom.'  To  abolish  Burns  is  not  possible, 
and  it  is  pleasing  to  think  that  the  '  n(m  oninis  moriar '  may  bo  aj)plied 
to  our  great  lyrical  jwet,  not  only  with  safety,  but  to  so  great  ad- 
vantage. 

"  1  beseech  you  prosecute  the  idea  of  printing  a  purified  centenary 
edition.  The  pearls  m\ist  be  rescued.  Why  should  our  children  not 
have  them  clear  of  the  imi)ure  dross  or  sand,  and  placed  in  as  fine  a 
ciiskct  as  the  hallowed  genius  of  the  nation  cun  produce  l"*" 


1857—1859-  8s 

liad  far  stronofer  claims  to  be  heard  than  now,  and  when 
the  evils  eallinof  for  leofislative  enactment  were  far  more 
pressing.  I  argue  from  the  general  temper  in  which  Par- 
liament legislates  ;  the  whole  tendency  of  legislation  in 
Parliament,  as  you  will  see  from  year  to  year,  being  not 
for  sections  of  the  community.  But  if  Parliament  is  will- 
ing and  ready  to  hear  us,  I  for  one  would  most  assuredly 
be  deeply  thankful  for  a  legislative  measure  that  should 
enable  us  to  cure  the  evil. 

"  There  is  another  way  of  looking  at  this  case,  which 
seems  perhaps  to  be  the  more  important,  when  regarded 
with  reference  to  Scotland.  Many  people  say,  *  What  have 
we  to  do  with  other  Churches,  and  with  the  opinions  of  the 
Free  Church,  or  of  any  other  Church?  We  have  to  do  with 
ourselves.'  I  say  we  sink  down  to  be  mere  sectarians  when 
we  say  we  have  only  to  do  with  ourselves  and  not  with  the 
country.  I  say,  as  a  National  Establishment,  we  have  to 
do  Avith  the  nation  ;  as  a  National  Scotch  Establishment. 
we  have  to  do  with  Scotchmen  ;  and  I  should  never  like 
to  hear  any  great  question  discussed  merely  with  reference 
to  its  relationship  to  our  Church,  and  not  in  its  relation- 
ship to  our  country.  When  we  look  at  this  question  in 
reference  to  the  whole  of  Scotland,  I  think  it  is  still  more 
complicated.  I  believe  that  the  welfare  of  Scotland,  as 
a  whole,  is  bound  up  with  Presbyterianism.  Scotland,  as 
a  country,  will  rise  or  fall  with  its  Presbyterianism.  It  is 
warped  into  its  whole  historical  past,  into  the  hearts 
of  our  people,  as  not  one  other  element  in  our  national 
greatness  or  history  is.  The  second  point,  I  think,  you 
will  agree  upon,  is  that  the  interests  of  Presbyterianism  in 
Scotland  are  bound  up  with  the  Established  Church.  ] 
do  not  say  the  Established  Church  exclusively,  but  I  say  the 
Established  Church  inclusively.  The  Presbyterianism  of 
Scotland  might  be  the  better  of  a  vigorous  Presbyterianism 
always  lying  outside  of  the  National  Establishment,  but  I 
thmk  it  would  be  much  worse  if  there  was  no  National 
Establishment  at  all.  Now  what  is  the  present  state  of  our 
Church  in  reference  to  Scotland  generally  ?  Ej^iscopacy 
has  unfortunately  alienated  a  very  great  number  of  the 
upper  classes,  not  from  the  Church  of  Scotland  merely,  but 


86  LIFE  OF  NOR  MAX  MACLEOD. 

fioin  the  rresbyterianism  of  Scotland.  I  would  wisli  tr. 
talk  gently  and  kindly  on  this  subject.  I  am  vitv  uri- 
M-illiug  to  attribute  motives.  There  are  many  E)iis!'o]italians 
Avhoso  families  have  been  so  from  generation  to  wneration. 
!Many  of  these  have  never  belonged  to  the  Church  of  Scot- 
,land,  and  are  yet  mo.st  hearty  friends  of  the  Established 
Church  ;  some  of  them  are  among  her  kindest  and  most 
generous  friends.  There  are  others,  again,  who  have  become 
Episcopalians  from  the  fact  of  English  education  ;  and  tliere 
are  others  who  have  become  so  from — I  hardly  know  how  to 
express  my  meaning,  but  perhaps  a  X\\aXq,  fl,\in]ceyism  would 
not  be  a  bad  term.  While  there  is  a  great  mass  of  educated 
gentlemen  of  this  persuasion,  many  of  whom  are  my  per- 
sonal friends,  and  for  whom  I  entertain  the  greatest  possible 
respect,  there  are,  along  with  these,  clergy  and  laity,  who  are 
antagonistic  for  conscience  sake,  not  only  to  the  Church 
of  Scotland,  but  to  Presbyterianism.  Looking,  again,  to 
Presbyterians,  we  see  that  there  is  a  great  number  of  the 
middle  classes  who  do  not  belong  to  the  Established 
Church,  and  who  are  even  antagonistic  to  it.  In  these 
circumstances,  I  do  not  myself  see  how  the  Established 
Church  can  remain  as  she  is,  and  continue  to  be  the  >.'ational 
Church.  There  is  no  use  of  entering  on  the  question  Avhether 
it  will  last  your  day  or  mine,  but  it  is  peifectly  clear  that, 
as  a  National  Church,  if  she  is  to  re2:)resent  the  Presby- 
terianism of  the  nation,  this  state  of  things  cannot  last. 
Should  Ave  not  deplore,  for  the  sake  of  Presbyterianism 
in  Scotland,  and  for  the  sake  of  all  Churches,  that  thi;^ 
noble  old  Presbyterian  Establishment  should  be  permanently 
weakened,  or  should  fall  ?  Presbyterianism  is  linked  in- 
separably with  the  holy  memories  of  the  Reformation. 
Every  Reformed  Church  in  every  jmrt  of  Europe — lot 
me  say  so  to  Episcopalians — took  the  Presbyterian  form, 
either  in  fact  or  in  theory  ;  in  France,  in  S[)ain,  in  Italy, 
in  the  National  Church  of  Germany,  in  Switzerland,  in 
Holland,  in  Sweden,  and  Norway,  this  was  the  case.  Are  we 
now  to  have  no  representative  National  Presbyterian  Church 
speaking  the  English  language — and  this,  too,  in  the  present, 
state  of  Episcopacy  and  Romanism  ?  Well,  if  we  are  not  to 
be  permanently  weakened  as  a  National  EstablishmenL    we 


1857—1859.  87 

must  gather  the  masses  of  Presbyterians  now  lying  beyond 
our  pale.  In  one  word,  I  tliink  it  is  the  duty  of  our  Church, 
as  a  National  Church,  to  entertain  not  only  privately  in 
our  hearts,  but  publicly,  the  question  of  union  with  the 
Free  Church.  I  assume  that  such  a  union  is  essential  for 
their  welfare  as  for  ours.  We  should  cease  without  it  to  be 
national  in  the  strongest  sense  of  the  word,  and  they  would 
cease  to  be  national  in  their  principles,  and  sink  down  to  be 
Voluntaries,  instead  of  retaining  the  convictions  and  prin- 
ciples on  which  they  left  the  Establishment.  I  do  not  think 
we  can  exist  worthily  as  a  great  National  Church  unless  some 
such  union  takes  place.  But  before  that  union  is  possible, 
there  must,  in  the  nature  of  things,  be  legislative  enact- 
ment. It  is  not  possible  with  the  present  state  of  our  law 
with  reference  to  the  induction  of  ministers,  not  to  speak 
of  our  laws  aft'ecting  sj)iritual  independence.  The  Free 
Church  men  have  justified  to  the  whole  Avorld  the  serious- 
ness and  strength  of  their  convictions  on  these  points  ; 
and  if  we  are  to  be  as  one  again,  these  convictions  assuredly 
must  be  respected  by  us — at  all  events  they  themselves 
will  respect  them." 

From  his  Joxjenal  : — 

''February  11. — A  girl  born  to  us.  We  give  her  to 
the  Lord.      Bless  His  name  ! 

" March  12.. — 'We  give  her  to  the  Lord,'  and  this 
night  it  would  seem  as  if  the  Lord  would  take  her  to 
Himself.  Slie  has  been  seized  with  cholera  and  seems 
very  weak. 

"  March  15. — The  anniversary  of  my  ordination  twenty- 
one  years  ago  !  I  have  attained  my  majority  as  a  minister. 
Praise  the  Lord  for  it ! 

"  In  proportion  as  I  realise  how  the  Lord  has  made  me 
an  instrument  of  good,  and  ever  heard  my  j^rayer,  and 
blessed  my  miserable  labours  ;  in  that  proportion  do  I 
feel  how  deep  and  real  is  my  sin.  Where  has  been  the 
habitual  yearning  for  souls,  the  cherishing  them  as  a  nurse 
lier  children  ;  the  constant  prayer  for  them  ;  the  carrying 
their  burden  ;   the  prompt  action  ;  the  devoteduess  ;  the 


88  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

love  to  Christ  always  ?  I  truly  feel  that  the  thief  on  the 
cross  owes  no  more  to  God's  grace  than  I  as  a  minister  do. 
My  sins  and  defects  as  a  minister  would  overwhelm  me, 
unless  I  believed  in  that  glorious  atonement  made  for  the 
worst  :  justification  by  faith  alone.  Father,  in  Christ, 
forgive  thine  unworthy  servant  !  Enter  not,  enter  not 
into  judgment,  for  he  cannot  out  of  Christ  be  justified ! 
I  jjlead  Thy  free  grace  alone. 

"  My  dear  babe  now  seems  fast  approaching  her  end. 
I  baptized  her  myself  on  Sabbath  morning. 

"  How  strange  that  she  knows  no  one  in  the  universe  ! 
Yet  liow  known,  how  cared  for,  how  beloved  !  How 
different  will  her  education  be  from  ours!  Yet  I  do  not 
envy  it  now.  The  old  earth,  where  Christ  Himself  learned 
obedience  as  a  child,  is  the  i?randest  school. 

"  2()^/i. — Now,  though  not  out  of  great  danger,  there 
is  hope.  It  has  been  a  most  blessed  time !  We  gave  her 
to  the  Lord,  I  believe,  sincerely.  We  give  her  still,  as  far 
as  Ave  know  our  hearts.  We  prayed  beside  her  ;  but,  with 
the  yearning  implanted  in  our  hearts  by  our  Father,  we 
cried  to  Him  to  spare  her  ;  and  God  knoweth  how  I  feel  it 
is  His  doing,  and  in  answer  to  prayer,  if  she  is  spared. 

"  God  bless  my  sermons  to-day  on  Missions  in  St. 
Andrew's  and  Barony  !  Hear  me,  Lord,  for  my  heart  is 
in  it !" 

There  were  few  important  questions  brouglit  bofoi'e 
the  Assembly  of  1859  on  which  he  did  not  speak  at 
length ;  most  of  them  touched  on  matters  in  which  ho 
had  special  interest.  The  subject  of  the  revival, 
which  followed  on  the  great  American  awakening  of 
1858,  was  then  rousing  attention  in  Ireland  and  in 
many  jiarts  of  Scotland.  lie  never  doubted  the  possi- 
bility of  a  great  outpouring  of  the  Spirit,  and,  at  the 
beginning  of  the  movement,  he  wrote  and  preached 
much  in  its  favour.  Later  phases  of  it  compelled 
him,  however,  to  modify  his   expectations  as  to  its 


1857— iSso-  89 

results ;  but  the  incredulity  with  which  the  very  idea 
of  a  Eevival  was  regarded  by  many  of  the  clergy, 
grieved  him  even  more  than  the  exaggerations  of 
over-zealous  supporters.  Wnen  the  question  came 
before  the  Assembly  of  1859,  it  did  so  in  a  shape 
which  excited  in  him  a  feeling  of  positive  indigna- 
tion. A  minister  labouring  in  a  poor  parish  in  Aber- 
deen, had  permitted  several  earnest  laymen  to  address 
his  people  from  the  pulpit ;  and  the  Presbytery, 
avoiding  any  expression  of  opinion  as  to  the  character 
of  their  teaching  or  its  results,  had  thought  proper  to 
rebuke  their  more  zealous  brother  on  the  technical 
ground  of  having  allowed  laymen  to  speak  in  church. 
This  unsympathetic  method  of  putting  down  an 
earnest,  and,  at  worst,  a  mistaken  attempt  to  do  good, 
touched  Norman  Macleod  to  the  quick. 

"  A  few  Christian  men,"  he  said,  "  came  to  Aberdeen 
and  were  brought  within  the  sacred  Avails  of  one  of  the 
churches  there.  He  did  not  know  whether  they  preached 
a  sermon  or  not ;  he  did  not  know  whether  they  stood  in  a 
pulpit  fifteen  feet,  or  on  a  platform  seven  feet  high,  but 
he  knew  that  they  addressed  people  upon  the  unsearchable 
riches  of  Christ,  and  that  as  Christian  men  they  spoke  from 
their  hearts  to  thousands. 

"The  only  fault  found  with  these  men  seemed  to  be 
that  they  addressed  immortal  souls  on  the  truth  of  Chris- 
tianity within  the  walls  of  a  church,  but  he  had  been 
brought  up  in  the  belief  that  the  Church  of  Scotland 
attached  no  peculiar  sacredness  to  stone  and  lime.  It 
had  been  pleaded  at  the  bar  that  these  men  might  go  to 
the  street.  But  there  were  many  laws  that  were  tolerable 
only  because  they  had  liberty  occasionally  to  break  them  ; 
and  surely  all  Church  laws  must  subserve  the  one  grand 
end  for  which  all  Churches  exist.  They  might  have  decency, 
order,  regularly  appointed  licentiates,  and  regularly  ordained 


90  TJFE  OF  XOR^rAX  MACr.KOD. 

nion,  and  dcatli  all  tho  wliilo.  This  was  not  a  tiino,  Avlich 
there  was  so  much  ncci^ssity  tor  increased. spiritual  liti',  inr 
the  General  Assembly  to  occupy  a  whole  night  in  finding 
fault  because  a  minister  permits  a  layman  to  preach  tho 
gospel  from  a  pulpit." 

He  also  spoke  upon  Ilomc  Missions,  and  in  the 
course  of  his  speech  took  occasion  to  repudiate  some 
of  tlie  accounts  that  were  commonly  given  by  social 
and  religious  Eeformcrs  of  the  condition  of  Glasgow, 
and  of  the  state  of  the  working  classes  there.  Ko  one 
knew  better  than  he  the  characteristic  faults  of  those 
classes ;  hut  he  emphatically  denied  the  exaggerated 
statements  as  to  their  habits,  with  which  sentimental 
proposals  for  their  improvement  were  often  supported. 
It  must  also  be  confessed  that  he  was  hurt  by  the 
manner  in  wliich  bis  views  had  bf>en  misrepresented 
by  that  advanced  section  of  abstainers  who  were  ready 
to  brand  a  man  as  an  abettor  of  drunkenness  if  he  did 
not  inculcate  their  special  opinions.  His  tract  on 
Temperance  had  been  more  than  once  most  unjustly 
handled  by  these  people,  and  partly  provoked  by  such 
criticisms,  but  still  more  as  vindicating  for  working 
men  the  liberty  which  was  not  denied  to  other  classes, 
he  spoke  with  a  warmth  and  frankness  which  startled 
many. 

"  The  city  of  Glasgow  has  somehow  or  other  got  such  a 
very  bad  name  for  its  weather  and  its  morality,  that  one 
would  suppose,  from  the  statements  made  in  some  (]uarters, 
we  sat  soaking  in  water  all  the  day,  nnd  soaking  in  whisky 
all  the  msAxX.  ;  that  we  were  engaged  in  cheating  our  neigh- 
hours  on  week  days,  and  on  Sabbath-day  sat  sulky  and 
gloomy  in  the  house.  There  has  been  a  great  tendency 
to  exa<4'feration  in  describing  the  condition  of  the  work- 


'^57 — '^59-  gi 

ing  classes.  If  people  wish  to  advance  teetotalism,  tlioy 
generally  begin  by  showing  what  a  dreadful  set  of  blacl;- 
guards  the  working  classes  are.  When  the  question  of 
the  suffrage  is  brought  above  board,  and  if  men  do  not 
wish  to  concede  it,  they  say,  '  Oh,  you  cannot  grant  it  to 
tlie  working  classes.'  These  poor  fellows  are  struck  riglit 
and  left,  and  the  impression  is  given  that  in  sucli  a  place 
as  Glasgow  there  is  nothing  in  the  East-end  but  an  enor- 
mous mass  sunk  in  degradation,  while,  in  the  Terraces,  and 
Streets,  and  Squares  of  the  West-end  there  is  a  population 
almost  entirely  intelligent  and  pious. 

"  Do  not  let  us  fall  into  exaggeration.      We   have  an 
enormous  mass  of  ignorant  people  in  Glasgow.      We  have 
a  mass  of  Irish,  neither  under  the  care  of  priest  or  pres- 
byter, and  in  a  wretched,  degraded  condition  ;  but   I  feci 
there  is  a  vast  number  of  steady,  sober,  God-fearing  men 
amongst  our  working  classes  who  are  never  heard  of,  and 
who,  whilst  these  drunken  fellows  may  be  creating  a  dis- 
turbance  in  the   streets,  are  sitting  quietly  by  their  tiie- 
sides.      Generally  speaking,  I  must  say  the  working  classes 
are    very  hke   the    upper   classes.      I    find   vulgar,    dissi- 
pated, and  indecent  people  in  both  classes.      I  must  also 
state  that  the  working  classes  have  a  respect  for  the  clergy, 
and  will  always  receive  one  with  respect,  provided  he  treats 
them  with  respect.      But  if  one  goes  among  the  working 
classes  he  ought  not  to  do  so  as  if  arranging  for  Popii;h 
controversies,   or  as  a   controversialist    coming    from  one 
class  to  another.      I  am  not   going  to  argue  the  question, 
though  I  am  ready  to  do  so,   but  I  hesitate  not  to  say,  as 
the  result  of  my  observation  of  Missions  to  Komanists  as 
hitherto  conducted  in  cities,  that  so  far  from  their  making 
Roman  Catholics  and   the  lower  classes  more  accessible  to 
the  clergy,  they  have  raised  up  barriers  in  their  way  which 
it   is   extremely  difficult    to   overcome.       So   much   do    I 
believe  this,  that  in  my  preaching  to  the  working  men  at 
night,  I  tell  them  I  am  not  going  to  attack  Romanism  or 
I'opery,   because  that  doing  so  has  driven  men  from  the 
gospel.     I  am  going  to  preach  the  gosj^el  only.      And  I 
know  that  Roman  Catholics  do  come,   brought  by  those 
wiio  attend  regularly.      I  am  very  glad  that  it  is  prcpo.ed 


92  LIFi:  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

to  combine  the  anti-popery  agency  with  the  home-mis'=;ion 
agoncy,  aud  I  hope  tlic  iMissionaries  will  go  earnestly  and 
lovingly  amongst  the  people  as  brethren  to  brelhrt-n,  not 
in  the  attitude  of  saying,  *  You  are  wrong  and  we  are 
right,'  or  '  We  only  want  you  to  come  from  the  Topish  to 
the  Protestant  Church.'   .... 

"  In  rcjjard  to  the  means  taken  to  educate  the  workii.  y 
classes  we  are  too  apt  to  forget  that  man  is  a  compound 
being,  a  social  being,  and  that  it  is  important  to  help  him 
to  better  house  accommodation,  and  a  better  knowledge  of 
natural  laws.  Above  all,  do  not  assume  too  high  a  standard 
as  to  the  little  luxuries  enjoyed  by  working  men.  Some 
say  the  working  man,  in  order  to  be  temperate,  must 
not  taste  a  single  drop  of  fermented  liquor  ;  and  j  eople, 
who  have  themselves  their  wine,  may  be  heard  talking 
wisely  about  the  horror  of  the  working  man  having  his 
glass  of  beer  or  porter.  I  cannot  talk  in  this  way.  I 
should  feel  it  hypocritical.  I  would  rather  say  to  them  : 
'God  has  given  it  to  you,  don't  take  it  as  from  the  devil, 
but  use  it  as  from  God.  Don't  take  it  in  the  publiehouses. 
If  3'ou  wish  to  use  such  things,  do  so  frankly,  and  as  in  the 
presence  of  God,  at  your  own  fireside,  or  before  family 
worship,  and  if  the  minister  comes  in  offer  him  some,  and 
don't  be  ashamed.'  Do  not  let  me  be  misunderstood  as  to 
what  I  say  about  temperance,  because,  remend)er,  there  is 
a  tendency  among  a  certain  type  of  teetotalers  to  spread 
as  facts  all  that  can  be  brought  against  any  clergyman 
who  dares  to  lift  up  his  voice  against  what  threatens  to  be 
a  terrific  tyranny  in  Scotland.  Now  mark  what  I  do  say. 
Do  not  suppose  that  when  visiting  the  houses  of  working 
men  I  am  in  the  habit  of  taking  anything  from  them  ;  I 
never  do  so.  Nor  would  I  be  understood  to  say  that  I 
would  not  seek  to  make  teetotalers  among  the  working 
classes.  When  I  find  that  any  of  them  drink  to  excess,  I 
try  to  make  them  resolve  to  be  teetotal  ;  but  I  put  it  in 
this  form  :  '  Christ  desires  temperance,  and  if  you  can't  bo 
temperate  without  being  teetotal,  then  you  must  be  teeto- 
tal.' In  the  same  way  some  people,  in  order  to  save  the 
working  man  from  extravagance,  say,  '  Oh,  this  is  dreadful  ; 
you  have  only  from  sixteen   to  seventeen  shillings  a  week 


1857 — iH59-  93 

and  yet  I  ha.e  more  tlian  once  found  you  with  a  pipe  in 
your  moutli.'  Now  why  should  he  not  smoke  liis  pipe  ? 
Do  you  imagine  we  are  to  have  the  confidence  of  the  work- 
ing classes  if  we  speak  to  them  in  that  fashion  ?  I  would 
rather  say  to  him,  *  I'll  give  you  tobacco  to  keep  your  pijie 
lighted,  I  like  one  myself  In  order  also  to  have  work- 
ing men  keep  the  Sabbath,  some  are  in  the  habit  of  speak- 
ing to  them  against  walking  on  the  Sabbath,  as  if  they 
were  terrified  to  give  them  that  libert}^  But  why  should 
they  wish  to  be  less  liberal  than  God  Who  has  made  us 
and  knows  our  frame  ?  Let  us  be  fair  and  honest  with 
the  working  man,  and  you  will  find  him  display  no 
tendency  to  pervert  your  teaching  if  you  deal  with  him  in 
a  spirit  of  liberality  and  in  accordance  with  the  laws  of  God 
properly  interpreted.  But  when  you  are  less  liberal  than 
God  and  draw  the  bow  too  much  in  one  direction,  it  will 
rebound  all  the  more  on  the  other." 

He  concluded  a  long  speech  by  expressing  his  con- 
viction that  the  grand  instrument  for  elevating  the 
working  classes,  and  all  classes,  is  the  gospel.  Along 
with  the  gospel,  many  plans  of  doing  good  might 
succeed ;  without  the  gospel  they  would  certainly  fail. 


To  Miss  Scott  Moncrieff  : — 

"  I  am  sorry  to  say  that  my  old  sciatica  has  returned, 
which  makes  me  quite  a  cripple  m  mind  and  body,  and 
neither  of  these  instruments  can  be  well  spared  by  the 
minister  of  the  Barony.  I  had  an  American  clergyman 
l>reakfasting  Avith  me  yesterday,  and  he  tells  me  that  the 
Revival  goes  on  like  a  great  flood,  ever  deepening  and 
Avidening  without  almost  an  eddy  or  a  wave  ;  churches 
fidl  every  morning  at  eight  in  all  the  great  cities,  and  life 
universally  diffused.  If  this  is  from  man,  he  is  not  so 
corrupt — not  a  sinner,  but  a  saint  in  his  disposition.  If 
it  is  from  the  Devil — he  is  not  the  Devil  we  have  taken 
him  for.  But  it  is  from  God,  and  therefore  to  be  desired 
and  prayed  for.     My  American  friend  will  address  a  prayer 


04  LIFE  OF  I\OR^fA^'  MACLEOD. 

meeting  in  my  church  on  the  subject.      Surely  Scotland 
will  share  the  blessin.t(." 


To  tlie  Eev.  W.  Fleming  Stevenson  : — 

September  21th,  1859. 

"  I  have  every  intention  of  going  to  Ireland  when  the 
seed  has  reached  the  blade  or  full  ear  of  corn.  I  think 
I  shall  then  be  able  to  have  a  truer  understanding  of 
the  work.  In  the  meantime  I  heartily  recognise  it  as  a 
work  of  God.  Praise  Him  for  it !  The  one  unquestioned 
fact  of  universal  religious  earnestness  is  itself  a  grand 
preparation  of  the  soil  for  the  seed.  We  must  sow  witli 
all  our  might.  Who  need  a  revival  more  than  some  of 
us  ministers  ?" 


The  Back  Study. 

CHAPTEE  XY. 

18G0— 61. 

AS  the  next  twelve  years  were  tlie  last,  so  they 
were  the  most  laborious  and  most  important,  of 
his  life.  In  addition  to  his  onerous  pastoral  duties, 
he  now  accepted  the  editorship  of  Good  Words.  The 
voluminous  correspondeuce  which  that  office  entailed 
necessarily  occupied  much  of  his  time  ;  but,  besides 
numerous  minor  articles,  he  contributed  to  its  pages, 
between  1860  and  1870,  'The  Gold  Thread,'  'The 
Old  Lieutenant,'  '  Parish  Papers,'  '  The  Highland 
Parish,'  'Character  Sketches,'  'The  StarliEg,'  'East- 
ward,' and  '  Peeps  at  the  Far  East.'  For  the  greater 
part  of  the  same  period  he  presided  over  the  India 
Mission  of  the  Church ;  and  during  its  course  he  had 
more  than  once  to  engage  in  painful  controversies  on 
public  questions,  which,  to  a  man  of  his  tempera- 
ment, were  more  exhausting  than  the  hardest  work. 


96  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

He  had  removed  during  the  previous  year  from 
AVoodlands  Terrace  to  liis  future  home  at  201,  Jjath 
Street ;  and  here,  as  a  refuge  from  interruption,  he 
fitted  up  a  little  library  over  an  outside  laundry, 
which  was,  to  the  last,  his  fuvoiu'ite  nook  for  study. 
His  writing  table  was  placed  at  a  small  window 
which  he  had  opened  at  a  corner  of  the  room,  where 
he  could  enjoy  a  glimpse  of  sky  over  the  roofs  of 
the  surrounding  houses.  It  was  at  the  best  only  a 
spot  of  heaven  that  was  visible,  but,  such  as  it  was, 
it  afforded  him  some  refreshment  when,  in  the  midst 
of  his  work,  he  caught  a  passing  gleam  of  cloudland. 

Those  who  were  admitted  to  this  '  back  study ' 
will  remember  the  quick  look  with  which  he  used 
to  turn  from  his  desk  to  scan  his  visitor,  and  the 
unfailing  heartiness  with  which,  even  in  his  busiest 
hours,  the  pen  was  cast  aside,  the  small  meerschaum 
lighted,  and  throwing  himself  on  a  couch  covered 
with  his  old  travelling  buffalo  robe,  he  entered  upon 
the  business  in  hand.  But  the  continual  interrup- 
tions to  which  he  was  exposed*  and  the  pressure  of 
literary  engagements  gradually  drove  him  into  the 
habit  of  working  far  into  the  night,  and  as  he 
seldom  failed  to  secure  at  least  an  hour  for  devo- 
tional reading  before  breakfast,  his  sleep  was  curtailed, 
to  the  great  injury  of  his  health. 

*  Every  forenoon  there  was  quite  a  levee  at  his  house,  consi-^ting 
chiefly  of  the  poor  seeking  his  aid  on  all  kinds  of  business,  relevant 
and  irrelevant.  On  these  occasions  his  vulnod  beadle,  Mr.  Luwson, 
acted  as  master  of  the  ceremonies.  One  day  when  Norman  was  over- 
whelmed with  other  work,  and  the  door-bell  seemed  never  to  cease 
ringing,  some  one  said,  '  I  believe  that  bell  is  possessed  by  an  evil 
spirit.'  '  Certainly,'  ho  answered.  '  Don't  you  know  the  Prince 
of  evil  spirits  is  called  Z?e//zobub — from  h.s  thus  torturing  hard- 
worked  ministers  P' 


i860 — 6i. 


97 


GoocI  Words  was  not  projected  by  him  Init  by  the 
publishei-s,  Mr.  Strahaii  and  his  partner  Mr.  Isbister 
When  Mr.  Strahau  (to  whose  enterprise  and  genius 
as  a  publisher  the  magazine  greatly  owed  its  success) 
asked  him  to  become  its  editor  he  for  a  time  declined 
to  accept  a  task  involving  so  much  labour  and  anxiety. 
Eut   he   had   long   cherished   the  conviction   that   a 
periodical  was  greatly  rc^quired  of  the  type  sketched 
by   Dr.  Arnold,   which    should  embrace   as   great  a 
variety  of  articles  as  those  which  give  deserved  popu- 
larity to  publications  professedly  secular,  but  having 
its  spirit  and  aim  distinctively  Christian.     The  gulf 
which  separated  the  so-called  religious  and  the  secular 
press  was,  in  his  opinion,  caused  by  the  narrowness 
and  literary  weakness  of  even  the  best  religious  maga- 
zines.    He  could  see  no  good  reason  for  leaving  the 
wholesome  power  of  fiction,  the  discussion  of  questions 
in  physical  and  social  science,  together  with  all  the 
humour  and  fun  of  life,  to   serials  which  excluded 
Christianity  from  their  pages.     His  experience  while 
conducting  the  Edlnhiirgh   Christian  Magazine  served 
only  to   deepen  his  desire  to   have  an  ably  written 
jDeriodical   which   would   take   up  a  manly  range  of 
topics,  and  while  embracing  contributions  of  a  directly 
religious  character,  should  consist  mainly  of  articles 
'  on  common  subjects,  written,'  as  Arnold  said,  '  with 
a  decidedly  Christian  tone.' 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"January  1,  half-'past  12. — Into  Thy  hands  I  commit 
my  life,  my  spirit,  my  family,  my  all ! 

"  I  have  hid  more  pleasure  in  preaching  this  year 
than  any  year  of  my  hfe.      Sabbath  after  Sabbath  I  bave 

VOL.    11.  H 


98  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

ha'l  joy  in  the  work,  and  have  been  wonderfully  helj/td  by 
God  out  of  the  pulpit  and  in  it.  1  had  my  usual  evening 
sermons  with  the  working  classes.  But,  strange  to  say, 
though  it  was  a  time  of  revival,  and  my  heart  longed  for 
one,  and  a  prayer-meeting  was  established  for  one,  and 
I  preached  two  months  longer  than  usual,  the  results  as 
10  attendance  and  conversions  were  far  poorer.  I  cannot 
yet  account  for  this,  except  on  the  supposition  that  the 
good  which  flowed  through  this  channel  has  gone  through 
others  into  God's  treasury.      Amen.* 

"  The  editorship  of  '  Good  AVords '  was  given  me.  I 
did  not  suggest  or  ask  the  publication,  and  I  refused  the 
editorship  for  some  time.  On  the  principle,  however,  of 
trying  to  do  what  seems  given  me  of  God,  I  accepted  it. 
May  God  use  it  for  His  glory  1 " 

*  The  following  anonymous  letter  wliicli  he  received  expresses 
grnphically  the  impression  these  services  had  on  the  jioor. 

"  I  hope  you  will  excuse  me,  Sir,  a  poor  woman,  to  address  you, 
one  of  the  greatest  men  of  the  Citj',  but  I  i'eel  so  grateful  for 
your  unwearied  kindness  in  preaching  to  us  working-jjcople  many 
winters,  just  out  of  pure  good-will  for  the  real  good  of  our  souls ;  if 
the  jn-ayers  of  the  poor  are  of  any  avail,  I'm  sure  you  have  them 
heartily,  you  have  no  idea  how  proud  we  are  to  see  yourself  coming 
into  the  puljiit. 

"  I  remember  some  of  the  lectures  very  well  last  winter  on  the 
Creation,  on  the  fall  of  M;in,  the  Flood,  and  Abraham  ofiering  up  his 
son  Isaac,  and  how  delighted  we  were  that  night  when  you  were  on 
Lazarus,  and  Martha  and  Mary.  I  heard  you  on  the  mysteries  of  pro- 
vidence, and  I  understood  it  well.  Sir,  as  I  heard  you  mention  how  it 
was  explained  to  yourself  that  night  when  you  thought  Mrs.  Macleod 
was  dying. 

"  Oh,  Sir,  I  hope  you  will  forgive  me  for  using  so  much  freedom 
as  this  with  you,  but  I  thought  I  might  never  have  an  o])portunity  of 
expressing  my  gratitude  to  you  personally,  but  I  thought  a  word  from 
even  an  old  woman  would  help  to  encourage  you.  I  have  heard  you  say 
your  own  faith  was  sometimes  like  to  fail. 

"  I  count  it  a  great  privih^ge  to  get  leave  to  hear  you,  you  speak  so 
kindly  to  us.  I  never  did  this  before  to  any  one,  but  I  never  felt  so 
much  indebted  to  any  minister  before  now.  Sir,  I  hojJO  you  will 
forgive  me  if  I  have  done  wrong — it's  for  no  selfish  end,  depend 
on  it,  or  I  would  have  given  my  name  and  address.  I  am  just  a 
widow." 


i860 — 6i.  99 

To  Mrs.    MACLEOD  :— 

HiGHFlELD,  May,  1860. 

"  Tliis  is  a  magnificent  country,  and  the  house  standi 
on  a  gentle  eminence,  and  there  is  such  a  glorious  prosjiect 
of  massy  and  majestic  forest  from  it,  with  low  blue  hills 
far  away.  Spring  is  here  in  its  fuU-iiooded  glory.  'I'lie 
woods  are  smothered  with  songs  and  nests.  The  night- 
ingales disturb  one's  repose.  The  roses  are  out,  and  a 
thousand  lowering  shrubs.  But  yet  I  can  think  of  little 
but  you  and  the  bairns,  and  would  prefer  the  confusion  of 
the  house  with  you  all,  to  this  grandeur  and  all  the 
happiness  of  seeing  my  dear  old  friends  again,  without  you. 
]  w.  ';ed  through  a  lane  of  Scotch  firs 
to-(hiy,  witli  such  peeps  of  woodland 
and  English  glories  as  were  awful.  Yet 
somehow  I  am  sad.  It  may  be  indi- 
gestion, or  anticipated  work,  or  per- 
haps the  devil,  or  sin,  but  so  it  is. 

"  We  had  a  grand  lunch  yesterday  at 's.      Noble 

pictures,  a  nice  fellow,  and  lots  of  people  who  never 
knew  of  my  existence,  or  I  of  theirs.  They  came  and 
went  like  a  dream.  They  might  have  been  ghosts  but 
for  the  tremendous  luncheon  they  ate." 


To  J.  M.  Ludlow,  Esq. : — 

June  1,  1860. 

"  I  saw  in  Paris  all  I  wished  to  see,  and  more  than  I 
expected  to  have  seen.  I  visited  the  jewellers  and  file- 
makers,  and  had  a  great  deal  of  full  and  free  talk  with  the 
men,  through  a  patient  interpreter.  These  men  have  made 
a  deep  and  singularly  favourable  impression  upon  me.  They 
seem  to  me  to  be  the  most  hopeful  class  (and  more  hopeful 
than  any  I  supposed  to  exist  among  the  people  of  Paris) 
out  of  which  to  rear  a  strong,  truthful,  manly,  living 
Church  of  Christ.  Would  God  that  earnest  pastors  met 
them  as  brethren,  face  to  face,  heart  to  heart !  Honest 
fellows,  I  seem  still  to  feel  the  firm  grasp  of  their  hands  ! 
Their  muscles  are  firmly  strung  to  their  hearts,  and 
vibrate  from  them.      1  do  not  think  their  associations  liave 

H  2 


100  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

liad  much  success,  Ijut  they  prophecy  a  brighter  future  in 
better  times. 

"  I  have  heard  much  of  Highland  revivals  since  I  saw 
you.  The  fanaticism  is  dreadful,  the  evils  monstrous,  and 
the  fruits  small  ;  yet  life,  life,  is  the  one  grand  want  of 
our  Protestant  churches,  come  how  or  when  it  may. 
All  is  dark  to  me  sa-\'e  God. 

"As  to  my  taking  ottence,  thank  Heaven  a  pretty  good 
schooling  has  developed,  a  la  Darwin,  a  rather  thin-skinned 
Celt  into  a  tolerably  fair  specimen  of  a  pachydermatous 
Saxon.  I  never  take  otience  except  when  I  believe  a  man 
tries  to  insult  me,  which  I  don't  remember  has  happened. 
And  then  ?  Why  enter  on  the  discussion  of  such  a  nice 
bit  of  casuistry !  " 

From  his  Jotjenal  : — 

"  July  20. — Wellhanh,  Campsie. — We  have  taken  this 
sweet  place  for  two  months,  and  just  as  I  was  beginning 
to  enjoy  the  old  nest,  and  to  commune  with  the  old  hills, 
the  dear  nurses  of  my  youth,  1  am  suddenly  called  away 
to  Russia ! 

"...  I  have  been  asked  to  aid  my  Scotch  countrymen. 
I  never  sought  it.  I  prayed  God  to  direct  me — and  I 
have  perfect  peace  from  feeling  it  to  be  His  will,  and 
so  I  go.  What  more  can  I  do  to  discover  God's  will 
than  a  call  to  work — prayer  for  guidance,  a  good  con- 
science, and  no  argument  against  the  work  ? 

"  It  is  strange  that  I  have  never  mentioned  in  my 
Journal  what  has  been  so  near  my  heart,  my  call  to 
minister  to  dear  Lady  Bute  on  her  deathbed !  In  De- 
cember I  was  summoned  by  telegram  to  visit  her.  I  found 
her  sister  with  her.  Lady  Bute  Avas  almost  speechless. 
I  knelt  beside  her,  and  spoke  into  her  ear,  repeating  suit- 
able texts  of  Scripture.  She  evidently  understood  me,  for 
while  I  spoke  she  suppressed  her  breathing  so  as  to  listen, 
and  then,  as  I  ended,  she  breathed  rapidly,  turning  her 
ear  away.  May  that  dear  boy  know  God  as  his  Father, 
even  as  his  earthly  father  and  mother  knew  Him,  and 
this  will  be,  as  eternity  is  to  time,  above  all  earthly  riches 


i860 — 6i.  101 

to  him.  I  had  pra3'ers  with  him  and  his  aunt.  I  offered 
to  remain  all  night,  and  begged  to  be  sent  for  in  the 
morning.  So  ended  a  life  full  of  deep  interest.  She 
had  a  singular  and  noble  sense  of  duty — a  refined  sense 
01  Avhat  was  due  to  God  and  man — with  a  masculine 
intellect ;  a  deep,  tender  heart  to  her  friends,  a  mar- 
vellous, chivalrous  devotion  to  her  relations  —  father, 
mother,  sisters,  and  son  especially.  I  believe  she  is  in 
glory — saved  through  Him  whom  she  knew  and  loved 
sincerely.  I  was  afterwards  at  her  funeral.  My  dear 
Macnab  was  there,  his  beloved  wife,  and  my  own  John 
Campbell.  I  accompanied  Mr.  Macnab  afterwards  to 
Carlisle.  He  died  a  month  afterwards,  and  a  more 
perfect  Christian  gentleman  or  finer  man  in  all  respects 
I  never  knew.      He  was  ausgehildet  within  and  without." 

The  following  extracts  are  from  letters  written 
to  Mrs.  Macleod  during  his  visit  to  Russia.  An 
accoant  of  his  tour  and  its  impressions  appeared 
in  Good  Words  for  1861. 

St.  Petersburg,  Avgust  1,  1860. 

"  Met  to-day  old  General  Wilson,  who  came  from 
Scotland  when  eight  years  old.  He  saw  the  Empress 
Catharine  in  1784. 

"  Now,  I  must  confess  that  St.  Petersburg  has  as  yet 
greatly  disappointed  me.  The  Neva  is  a  noble  river  :  St. 
Isaac's  is,  outside,  a  noble  church.  The  bridge  is  fine,  so 
are  the  granite  quays  ;  some  of  the  statues  fine — but  the 
town  as  a  whole  is  as  dust  to  Paris.  There  is  a  mixture 
of  big  and  mean  buildings — a  want  of  finish  which 
reminds  me  of  an  American  town. 

"  The  heat  is  considerable  :  the  gentry  are  absent.  You 
see  almost  no  military,  no  music,  no  cafes,  no  fine  hotels  ; 
but  a  hot,  white,  glaring,  dead  slowness  in  the  place.  It 
is  sad,  not  joyous — heavy,  not  gay.  The  service  of  the 
Greek  Church  is  far  less  interesting  than  the  Roman 
Cathohc." 


102  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD, 

Avgust  10. 

•'  We  have  met  several  Scotchmen.  I  saw  a  High- 
JandtT  in  full  dress  in  church,  and,  to  his  astonishment, 
•iddri'ssed  him  in  Gaelic.  Curiously  enough,  I  met  three 
men  together  at  a  work — one  was  from  the  Barony,  the 
second  from  Campbeltown,  the  third  from  Dalkeith. 

•'  I  preached  the  night  before  last  on  the  top  of  a  gag 
meter  to  about  forty.  Most  of  the  people  were  from 
Glasgow.  It  was  a  queer  sight.  I  sung  the  Psalms — no 
seats  or  books  ;  lots  of  Russian  workmen  stood  around  to 
hear  the  Scota  '  pope ' — as  the  priests  are  called.  '  My 
heart  is  full,'  said  a  Scotch  woman,  taking  my  hand,  '  I 
canna  speak.' 

"  I  spent  three  hours  in  St.  Isaac's  on  Snndny  ;  got  my 
pocket  picked.  The  service  was  beyond  all  measure  tiresome. 
Crowds  of  priests  with  the  Metropolitan  at  their  head — ■ 
most  magnificent  dresses.  Chanting  beautiful,  voices 
exquisite,  but  vast  sameness.  It  lasted  three  hours,  and 
was  followed  by  the  kissing  of  the  Cross  and  the  Bible, 
&c.  It  would  take  pages  to  give  you  an  idea  of  what  is 
not  worth  knowing.  It  is  externally  worse  than  Rome. 
Russian  life  I  cannot  see.  I  know  no  more  than  you  do 
of  the  country." 

Sweden,  Attgust  31. 

"  I  am  here  in  a  station  on  the  railway,  by  the  margin 
of  a  wild  Highland  Loch,  having  come  out  to  visit  a  few 
Scotchmen.  I  left  St.  Petersburg  on  Tuesday  week,  with- 
out any  regret,  never  wishing  again  to  visit  that  slow, 
big,  ill-i)aved,  drosky-thumped,  expensive  capital. 

"  Thank  God,  there  are,  however,  signs  of  life  every- 
where. Thousands  of  the  Scrii)tures  are  being  circulated 
in  Russia.  Gospel  preaching  is  heard  in  Finland,  and 
in  Sweden.  The  dry  bones  are  everywhere  stirring, 
though  the  breath  has  come  to  a  few  only. 

"  The  system  of  the  Church  in  Sweden  is  quite  perfect 
of  its  kind.  No  dissent  is  permitted.  Every  chilil  is 
educated.  All  must  be  confirmed,  and  thoroughly  taught, 
and  examined  in  the  small  and  larger  catechism.  Every 
one  betore  getting  a  situation,  even  a  servant,  must  pro- 


i860 — 6i.  103 

diice  a  certificate  in  which  is  marked  the  number  of  times 
and  the  last,  in  which  he  has  communicated.  There 
is  probably  not  a  person,  the  vilest,  who  has  not  such. 
What  is  the  result  ?  formality,  deadness,  and  an  immense 
amount  of  corruption.  The  longer  I  live  the  more  I  am 
convinced  that  the  more  perfect  the  government,  the  less 
it  should  interfere  with  religion.  If  men  won't  do  right 
because  it  is  right,  what  is  the  good  of  it  ?  Give  me 
freedom  with  all  its  risks." 

On  his  return  from  Eiissia  his  attention  was  directed 
to  a  speech  made  by  a  distinguished  and  much 
resp(!cted  professor  in  a  Scotch  University,  a  keen 
advocate  of  Total  Abstinence,  who  had  taken  Dr. 
Macleod's  tract,  '  Plea  for  Temperance,'  as  his  text 
ac  a  meeting  of  the  League,  held  in  Glasgow. 

To  Professor : — 

Glasgow,  1860. 

"...  I  am  not  in  the  habit  of  taking  notice  of  all 
the  '  hard  speeches  '  which  have  been  uttered  against  me 
by  violent  and  unscrupulous  abstainers.  There  are,  I 
rejoice  to  know,  among  teetotalers  very  many  persons 
whom  I  highly  respect  for  their  own  and  for  their  work's 
sake,  and  many  intimate  and  dear  friends  with  all  of 
whom  I  am  glad  to  co-operate  in  my  own  way,  according 
to  my  given  light  and  conscientious  convictions.  But  I 
protest  that  there  is  also  among  them,  a  rabble  of  intem- 
perate men,  revelling  in  the  pride  of  power  which  enables 
them  as  members  of  a  great  league,  and  under  cover  of 
an  exclusive  profession  of  self-sacrifice  for  the  public  Aveal, 
to  bully  the  timid  and  to  exercise  all  the  tyranny  possible 
in  a  free  country  over  every  man,  especially  a  Christian 
minister,  who  presumes  to  dissent  from  their  views  of 
duty  and  to  resist  their  demands,  or  who  dares  to  defy 
their  threats  and  despise  their  insinuations.  Such  men  I 
never  notice. 

"  But  it  is  otherwise  when  a  learned  and  Christian 
gentleman  like  you  attacks  me. 


104  ^-//•'^'   OF  NORMAN  ^[ACI.EOD. 

".  .  .  Yes,  T  tliiiik  your  remarks  were  unfair,  unealled  for, 
and  calculateil,  as  far  as  your  iiiHuence  and  words  extend, 
to  injure  my  character,  and  weaken  my  hands  in  labourinfj" 
anionj^  the  working  classes  whose  well-being  is  dearer  to 
me  th;iu  life.  I  must  ask  you  to  prove  your  assertions, 
and  to  justify  your  remarks  on  me  and  my  writings  more 
fully  tlian  you  have  done  in  your  speech,  and  upon  other 
princi[)les  than  those  of  the  League.  I  do  not  .ask  you  to 
explain  or  defend  the  '  principles '  of  total  abstinence,  to 
sliow  their  harmony  with  Scripture,  or  their  expediency 
as  rules  of  action  in  the  present  state  of  society.  All  this 
I  am  willing  for  argument's  sake  to  take  for  granted. 
But  what  I  demand  in  justice  from  your  hands  is  to  prove 
that  the  principles,  the  argunient,  the  spirit,  or  any  one 
thing  else  in  my  tract  is  inconsistent  with  any  other  things 
in  the  Word  of  God,  which  I  recognise  as  '  the  only  rule 
of  faith  and  morals.'  Nay,  you  are  boimd,  in  order  to 
justify  yourself,  to  prove  my  teaching  to  be  so  inconsis- 
tent as  to  have  Avarranted  you  in  exposing  it  as  you  have 
done,  and  in  holding  me  up  as  a  foe  of  temperance,  and  my 
tract  as  calculated  to  confirm  dnmkards  in  their  vicious 
habits  ;  nay,  to  ruin  souls  temporally  and  eternally. 
Pray  keep  to  this  simple  theme.  Put  my  tract  and 
Scripture  side  by  side,  and  in  clear  language,  and  with 
truthful  criticism,  point  out  the  contradictions  between 
IJible  and  tract,  in  w'ord,  principle,  or  si:)irit.  Wherein  do 
they  differ  ?  W^herein  am  I  not  of  Paul,  or  of  Cephas,  or 
of  Christ  ?  Is  it  in  my  exposition  and  denunciation  of 
the  crime  of  drunkenness  ?  Is  it  in  my  urgent  recom- 
mendation to  all  drunkards  to  adopt  total  abstinence  as 
essential  in  their  case  ?  Is  it  my  toleration  of  the  temperate 
use  of  drinks  by  Christian  men,  which  in  excess  would  in- 
toxicate ?  Is  it  in  admitting  that  in  certain  cases  total 
abstinence  should  be  adopted  by  sober  men  ?  Do  point 
out,  I  beg  of  you,  anything  I  have  written  which  Paul 
or  our  great  Master  would  condemn,  and  which  warranted 
you  liolding  me  up  as  a  foe  of  temperance,  and  as  a  real, 
though  unintentional  helper  of  the  devil  in  his  work  of 
ruining  souls  temjiorally  and  eternally." 


i86o — 6i.  105 

To  the  Same  : — 

ISGO. 

"  .  .  .  I  do  not  for  one  moment  imagine  that 
you  intended  to  injure  my  character  or  usefulness ; 
but  I  beheve  that  your  speech  tended  to  do  both,  upon 
OTounds  which  seemed  to  me  unfair.  I  account  for  this 
in  my  own  mind  by  the  one-sided  influence,  pardon  me 
for  saying  so,  which  the  frequent  and  hard  riding  of  a 
liobby  produces  on  an  eager  and  earnest  rider,  more 
especially  Avhen  several  thousand  persons  at  an  annual 
meeting  like  that  of  the  League,  are  galloping  fast  and 
furious  in  the  same  heat.  You  allude  also  to  what  you 
are  pleased  to  call  my  remarkable  speech  in  the  General 
Assembly  of  '59,  as  calculated  to  increase  the  danger  of 
my  teaching  as  given  in  the  tract.  I  remember  the  speech 
Avell.  My  remarks  made  on  that  occasion  with  reference 
to  the  reformation  of  the  working  classes,  proposed  by  total 
abstainers  from  alcohol  and  tobacco,  were  a  mere  episode 
in  a  very  long  speech  on  a  great  subject,  and  were  not  pre- 
meditated. They  were  published  also  in  newspapers  in  a 
separate  sliape,  and  unconnected  with  the  speech  of  which 
they  formed  a  very  unimportant  part.  For  some  time 
they  Avere  a  common  and  favourite  target  for  the  fiery 
darts  of  total  abstainers.  Your  allusion  to  them  affords 
me  an  opportunity  of  stating  that  after  mature  deliberation 
I  see  nothing  in  them  to  regret  or  retract.  It  is  still  my 
l)elief  that  we  must  apply  (and  in  this  you  will  agree 
with  me)  the  same  principles  in  seeking  to  Christianize 
the  habits  of  rich  and  poor  ;  for,  to  use  a  vulgar  but 
expressive  simile,  '  what  is  sauce  for  the  goose  is  sauce 
for  the  gander.'  Since  I  do  not  therefore  feel  myself  justi- 
fied, in  the  General  Assembly  or  out  of  it,  in  condemning 
the  rich  man  for  drinking  his  glass  of  wine  after  dinner, 
or  even  for  smoking  his  cigar  (to  the  horror  of  the  excel- 
lent Dean  of  Carlisle)  after  breakfast,  neither  can  I,  without 
hypocrisy  or  impertinence,  condemn  the  working  man,  who 
has  fewer  sources  of  physical  gratification,  for  taking  his 
glass  of  beer,  or  smoking  his  pipe  if  so  disposed,  at  his 
Dumble  fireside.  It  is  not  my  special  province  to  recom- 
mend either;  yet  neither  am  I  called  upon  as  a  Christian 


rob  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

minister  to  eoncb^mn  either.  But  I  am  not  ashamed  to 
(confess  that  1  would  '  recommend '  the  working  man  wlio 
Avas  dispostxl  to  take  his  beer,  to  do  so  at  his  own  tireside, 
if  I  tliereby  lielped  to  keep  him  from  whisky,  above  all 
from  the  terrible  temptations  of  the  publichouse.  All  this 
I  expressed,  in  the  hearing  of  our  friend  Dr.'Guthrie,  upon 
oath  to  Her  Majesty's  Commissioners  when  giving  evidence 
with  reference  to  the  working  of  the  Forbes  Mackenzie  Act. 
For  I  firmly  believe  that  one  way  of  hindering  men  from 
sinfully  abusing  God's  gifts,  is  to  help  them  to  use  them 
according  to  His  Avill  ;  and  that  all  reforms  which  ignore 
the  lawful  gratification  of  those  universal  instincts,  phy- 
sical, mental,  and  moral,  which  God  has  implanted  in 
humanity,  are  essentially  false,  and  in  the  long  run  will 
fail  to  produce  even  the  s^jccitic  good  which  their  promoters 
intended,  or  will  develop  other  evils  equally,  if  not  more  de- 
structive of  the  well-being  and  happiness  of  man.  Hence 
my  conviction  is  becoming  every  day  more  profound,  that 
the  gospel,  as  revealing  God's  will  through  His  Son,  is  the 
only  true  and  safe  reform,  for  it  does  not  ignore  any  item  of 
man's  complex  nature,  but  ecpially  and  beautifully  deve- 
lojis  the  whole.  Believing  this,  I  have  humbly  endeavoured 
honestly  to  keep  my  fellow  men  in  accordance  with  wdiat 
seems  to  me  to  be  the  will  of  God.  Hence  I  have  not 
contented  myself  with  always  protesting  against  a  positive 
evil,  but  have  also  declared  in  favour  of  its  opposite 
good,  that  so  God's  mercies  may  the  more  gladly  be 
accepted  and  appreciated,  and  the  devil's  perversion  of 
them  be  the  more  readily  rejected  and  detested. 

"  What  I  have  done  may  He  within  Himself  make  pure  ! 

"  One  word  more  before  bringing  this  correspondence 
to  a  close.  It  is  a  very  painful  thing  for  me  to  be  ever 
and  anon  forced  into  the  position  of  even  appearing  to  be 
an  enemy  to  total  abstainers  and  their  work.  Because  I 
have  written  a  tract  with  heart,  Avill,  and  strength  against 
drunkenness,  and  striven  earnestly  with  a  solemn  sense  of 
juy  responsibility  before  God  to  accomplish  its  cure,  on  what 
I  believe  to  be  sound  Scripture  principles — an  attempt 
which  I  rejoice  to  know  has  in  many  cases  been  successful 
• — does  it  not  seem  strange  and  hard  that  I,  of  all  men. 


i860 — 6i.  107 

bIiouM  be  so  freijuently  held  up  as  a  foe,  a  quasi  friend, 
or  in  some  way  or  other  an  enemy,  of  those  who  with 
equal  earnestness,  and  I  hope  with  gi'eater  success,  are 
labouring-  in  the  same  cause  ?  If  I  have  spoken  or 
written  harshly  against  teetotalers,  you  know  it  is  not 
against  them  as  a  body,  or  against  their  work,  but  only 
against  the  injustice  and  tyranny  of  the  fanatical  portion 
of  them,  Avho,  not  only  in  public  but  in  private,  are  in 
the  habit  of  attacking,  sneering  at,  or  imputing  all  sorts 
of  '  sensual  and  empty '  motives  to  those  who  may  be 
quiet,  sober,  God-fearing  temperate  men,  guilty  of  no 
other  fault  than  refusing  to  become  total  abstainers. 
Now  all  I  demand  is,  that  I  and  others  who  act  on  tem- 
perate jDrinciples — a  class  comprehendmg  the  vast  majority 
of  the  Christian  laity  and  clergy  of  this  country — shall 
be  treated  as  those  who  may  be  presumed,  in  the  eye  of 
charity,  to  have  as  much  common  sense,  sound  Christian 
principle,  and  self-denying  philanthropy  as  total  abstainers. 
Do  let  us  have  a  free  trade  in  those  Christian  virtues  of 
justice,  mercy,  and  kindness,  which  will  make  us  all 
healthier  and  happier  than  can  even  thin  French  wine. 
Protest  with  me  against  all  monopolies  of  principle  and 
wisdom  by  any  sect  or  party.  At  the  same  time  I  am 
willing  to  acknowledge  that  it  is  a  very  serious  fault  if  I 
have  ever  spoken  or  written,  even  in  ignorance,  any  senti- 
ment which  could  induce  a  Christian  brother  conscien- 
tiously to  suspect  or  to  condemn  me,  or  to  look  upon  me 
in  "any  other  light  than  as  a  sincere  friend  and  coadjutor 
of  every  man  who  seeks  to  elevate  our  working  classes, 
and  to  make  them  more  sober  and  God-fearing." 

To  J.  M.  Ludlow,  Esq. : — 

Glasgow,  December,  1860. 

"  My  (torrespondence  has  fallen  so  far  behind  that  I 
have  had  to  pause  for  three  days  in  my  voyage,  yea  to 
sail  backwards  to  pick  up  the  wretched  craft.  I  am 
slowly  beating  to  windward,  every  sheet  to  the  breeze,  not 
to  speak  of  note  paper.  Do  you  understand  my  position 
from  this  description  ?  If  you  do,  pray  explain  it  to  me, 
for  I  don't.      I  only  know  that  I  am  in  a  mess — never 


io8 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


having  been  so  before — no,  never !  .  .  .  All  the  blessings 
of  the  season  be  with  you  !  Kiss  Hughes  through  the 
partition  for  me.  The  cold  here  is  looking  up  to  0,  like 
a  moon  over  its  head.  It  has  been  several  degrees 
minus !  I  have  been  sitting  swathed  for  some  days  in 
the  house  thus — 


I  expect  in  a  week  to 
be  thus — 


To  Principal  TiBiTCH  : — 

"  Do  send  me  an  article  on  comets,  or  on  the  cc-sine. 


— taking  an  observation 
of  his  oo-Bine  the  comet. 


Original  sign. 


i860 — 6i.  109 

From  his  Jourin-al  : — 

Lauder,  February  22,  1861. 

"  I  have  enjoyed  here  ten  days  of  extra  luxurious  rest  ! 
No  bell,  no  culls,  repose,  air,  exercise  (when  it  did  not 
pour)  !  I  have  read  a  ton  of  MSS. — all  Balaam  save  about 
one  pound.  I  have  written  eighty-five  letters,  and  so  I 
return  with  a  load  of  work  off  me,  and  a  load  of  gratitude 
on  me. 

"  I  have  been  reading  McClieyne.  How  thankful  I 
should  be  if  I  had  a  thousandth  part  of  his  devotedness. 
How  simple,  yet  how  difficult !  Who  can  doubt  human 
corruption  and  utter  vileuess,  when  we  find  it  difficult  to 
devote  ourselves  to  God  !  " 

"  Jmie   3. — This   day  enter  my  fiftieth    year — haK  a 

century  old  ! 

*  Would  that  my  tongue  could  utter 
The  thoughts  that  arise  in  me.' 

"Yerily  God's  mercies  are  more  than  can  be  num- 
bered ! 

"  I  desire  Thee,  God,  to  help  me  to  live  more  use- 
fully, more  devotedly  to  Thee  ;  and,  above  all  other  things, 
to  have  fellowship  with  Christ  in  His  mind  towards  all 
men,  so  as  to  be  in  everything  a  fellow  worker  with 
Himself 

"  Many  good  people  don't  understand  the  purpose  of 
Good  Words,  and  so  it  sometimes  shocks  or  scratches  them 
• — so  much  so  that  the  Tract  Society  of  Edinburgh  have, 
I  hear,  debated  how  far  they  can  patronise  it ;  and  I  know 
the  '  Pure  Literature '  (pure  water,  and  sometimes  pure 
nonsense)  Society  of  London  won't  recommend  it.  They 
don't  think  '  Wee  Davie '  * — my  dear  wee  mamiie  ! — suffi- 
ciently up  to  the  mark  of  piety  because  it  omits  important 
truth — -just  as  St.  James's  Epistle  and  various  other  books 
of  the  Bible  do  !  From  my  heart  I  regret  this,  because  I 
believe  it  is  the  fushionless,  unreal,  untruthful,  *  pious ' 
story    telling,  which   some   of   our    tract    societies    alone 

*  '  "Wee  Davie '  was  written  in  his  brother  Donald's  Manse  at 
Lauder,  during  a  snow-storm,  and  was  finished  after  two  sittings. 
When  Norman  tried,  on  its  completion,  to  read  it  aloud,  he  was  more 
than  once  so  choked  with  tears  that  he  had  to  lay  it  down. 


no  Z IFE  OF  NORMA N  MA CL EOD. 

patronise,  that  has  jiroduced  the  story  telHng  without 
piety,  but  with  more  truth  and  more  trash,  which  is 
devoured  by  the  working  classes.  >sow  I  have  a  pur{)ose 
— a  serious,  solemn  purpose — in  Good  Wonls.  I  wish 
in  this  peculiar  department  of  my  ministerial  work  to 
which  I  have  been  '  called,'  and  in  which  I  think  I  have 
been  blessed,  '  to  become  all  things  to  .all  men,  that  I 
might  by  all  means  gain  some.*  I  cannot,  therefore,  write 
stories  merely  as  a  literary  man,  to  give  amusement,  or  as 
works  of  art  only,  but  must  always  keep  before  me  the 
one  end  of  leading  souls  to  know  and  love  God.  Most 
popular  stories  are  based  on  the  natural  ;  the  finest 
characters  are  assumed  to  have  been  the  growth  of  the 
old  man,  at  all  events,  to  have  been  irrespective  of  any 
knowledge  or  recognition  of  Christ.  Now  I  believe,  in 
my  soul,  that  all  which  one  discovers  of  out-and-out 
good  among  men,  really  and  truly,  is  ever  found,  as  a 
fact,  to  have  arisen  from  the  recognition  of  the  super- 
natural,— a  power  coming  to  the  soul  through  Jesus 
Christ.  Therefore.  I  must  make  this  the  open  and  con- 
fessed source  of  strength  in  my  characters,  because  I  find 
it  in  society  as  well  as  in  the  Bible.  But,  again,  in  writing 
sketches  of  character,  1  must  also  give  that  mixture  of 
clay  which  all  of  us  have,  and  express  the  imier  life  in 
print,  just  as  I  see  it  expressed  in  actual  life  ;  and  I  am 
bold  enough  to  assert  that  my  life  sketches  are  truer  far 
as  tracts  than  those  productions  aw>,  which  make  working 
men,  ay,  young  children,  speak  like  Eastern  patriarchs 
or  old  apostles.  I  may  be  wrong  in  my  idea  as  to  how 
Good  Vlords  should  be  conducted,  and  I  cannot,  of  course, 
realise  it  as  I  wish  to  do,  but  I  have  a  purpose  which  I 
believe  to  be  right,  and  can  therefore  pray  to  Christ  to 
bless  it ;  and  can  also  humbly,  but  firmly,  go  ahead,  what- 
ever the  religi  >us  world  may  say.  I  know  that  I  seek 
50  to  conduct  it  that  I  would  not  be  ashamed  to  have  it 
beside  me  on  my  death-bed.  If  it  is  not  pleasing  to 
Christ,  from  my  soul  I  desire  that  He  may  bring  it  to 
jKni-iht." 


i860 — 6i.  Ill 

To  Miss  Margaret  Campbell  : — 

February,  1861. 

"  I  am  going  to  finish  '  Ned  Fleming.'  *  I  always 
have  3^our  brother  Dugald  before  me  as  my  hero — Ahi 
Momoria  !  How  are  they  gone,  '  the  old  familiar  faces  ! ' 
Yet  they  are  immortal  in  memory.  Those  Campbeltown 
times  and  these  old  companions  have  had  an  immense 
influence  on  my  life.  The  code  of  honour  which  emanated 
from  your  father's  roof  I  always  recognised  as  one  of  the 
great  powers  which  have  helped  to  build  me  up  to  what  I 
am.  We  never  told  a  lie !  Yes,  once,  when  we  broke 
Bell  Fisher's  erodes !     Innocent  souls !  " 


To  J.  M.  Ludlow,  Esq. : — 

31arch  16,  1861. 
"The  articles  upon  the  Deaconesses  in  Good  Words 
seem  to  prepare  the  way  for  what  you  intended  to  write, 
or  proposed  to  write,  upon  the  useful  sisterhoods  in  the 
Church  of  Rome.  I  shall  be  glad  to  have  your  views 
upon  that  most  useful  class  of  females  ;  but  do,  my  dear 
fellow,  remember  that  you  are  writing  for  John  Smith  and 
his  wife,  up  one  'pair'  of  stairs,  after  a  tea-dinner  at 
6  o'clock  ;  John  inditFerent  to  the  movements  of  the  starry 
heavens,  and  Mrs.  Smith  absorbed  in  the  toes  of  John's 
stockings.  Think  of  these  (if  you  can)  and  you  will  write 
splendidly." 

To  Miss  Keddie,  on  the  loss  of  hor  Sister  :^ 

Adelaide  Place,  March  17,  1861. 
"  It  must  be  very  terrible  !  The  Saviour's  words  in 
His  sense  of  loneliness  amidst  the  crowd  and  even  amidst 
His  own  disciples,  will  be  full  of  meaning  to  you,  '  I  am 
not  alone,  for  the  Father  is  with  me  ! ' — but  for  that,  the 
universe  would  have  been  a  wilderness  to  His  heart. 
Our  human  hands  are  too  coarse  to  meddle  with  the  fine 
network  of  the  spirit.  We  break  and  confuse  oftener  than 
we  harmonise  and  heal.     But  He  can  do  it !  and  with  what 

*  In  the  "  Old  Lieutenant." 


112  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

wisdom,  patience,  tenderness  and  holy  love  !  Oh  what  n 
mockery  it  would  be  if  our  social  life  in  Guist  cndtd 
here !  It  hardly  begins  here.  Very  soon  you  and  your 
sister  will  meet,  and  when  you  talk  over  old  times,  you 
may  be  able  to  praise  and  bless  God  for  this  time,  now  so 
dark  and  trying.  ^lost  certain  it  is  that  God  by  such 
trials,  when  we  wait  on  Him,  trust  Him  and  seek  His 
kingdom,  will  i)urify  us,  and  make  us  instruments  more  tit 
to  glorify  Him." 

Jum  3,  ISGI. 

"  My  beloved  Parents, — 

"  Few  men  are  able  to  begin  a  note  with  such 
words  when  entering  their  fiftieth  year !  I  owe  it  to 
God  to  acknowledge  that  one  of  the  greatest  mercies  in  a 
Hfe  which  has  been  one  continued  mercy,  has  been  to 
possess  such  parents,  and  that  they  have  been  spared  to 
journey  with  me  through  the  wilderness  for  nearly  half  a 
century,  and  that  their  presence  has  always  been  a  constant 
light  of  love  which  never  once  flickered.  Most  deeply  do 
1  appreciate  the  inestimable  blessing  thus  bestowed  on  me 
and  on  their  children's  children. 

"  It  is  not  likely  that  if  I  am  spared  to  see  another 
decade  of  my  life,  I  shall  have  both  or  either  of  you  to 
address.  But  oh !  the  mercy  of  entering  old  age  with 
one's  parents  still  alive,  and  then  to  pass  from  old  age  to 
eternal  youth  in  the  good  hope  of  meeting  them  again  for 
ever, 

"  If  my  birthdays  now  are  more  sobered  than  they 
were  in  early  youth  they  are  far  more  joyful.  1  every 
year  bless  God  with  a  fuller  heart  that  I  exist  and  have 
lived  in  such  an  atmosphere  of  earthly  love.  Let  me  have 
your  last,  as  I  have  had  your  early  prayers,  that  I  may 
fulfil  my  calling,  and  that,  as  a  man  with  innumerable 
shortcomings  I  may  prove  in  the  main  true  and  loyal  to 
the  best  of  Masters. 

"  Full  of  awe  and  thanksgivings  lor  my  mercies  and 
full  of  love  to  you  both, 

"  I  am  your  devoted  ami  aflectionate  first-born." 


i86o — t)i.  113 

To  J,  M.  Ludlow,  Esq.:— 

August,  1861 

"Comfort  me  by  scolding  me.  Your  genuine  good- 
ness, forbearance,  and  forgiving-heartedness,  give  me  posi- 
tive pain  and  make  me  hate  myself,  which  is  not  com- 
fortable. Out  upon  public  life,  magazines,  and  all  articles  ! 
*  I  Avould  I  were  a  weaver  ! ' 

"  But  I  really  had  not  another  day  in  London  to 
see  you.  I  was  worried  to  death  by  Dowagers  and 
Dogmatics. 

"  You  know  why  the  town  clerk  of  Dunfermline  called 
the  Provost  dog-matic  ?  Because  '  the  bodie  got  so  cross 
in  an  argument  about  a  Bible  doctrine,  that  Joe  hited  my 
thoomb  ! ' 

"  A  thousand  thanks  for  your  kindness  in  not  '  biting 
my  thoomb,'  but  giving  me  your  hand. 

"  As  to  the  New  Maoazine,  I  have  nothing  whatever  to 
say  against  any  other  craft  trying  to  cross  the  wide  ocean 
along  with  my  own.  There  is  room  for  all,  I  buy  two 
or  three  penny  papers  now,  instead  of  one.  So  is  it  with 
cheap  magazines,  if  good. 

"  My  calling  is  the  gospel,  to  give  myself  wholly  to  it, 
as  I  know  it  and  believe  it.  For  this  I  live,  and  for  this 
I  could  die.  Therefore  so  long  as  I  have  Good  Words 
there  shall  be  '  preaching '  in  it,  direct  or  indirect,  and 
no  shame,  or  sham,  about  it.  This,  along  with  my  secu- 
larity,  will  ke^p  it,  so  far,  distinct  from  other  periodicals. 

"  The  sin  of  my  articles  is  in  what  they  do  not  say, 
'  Wee  Davie,'  poor  little  fellow  !  leaves  out  several  doc- 
trines. They  say  that  the  expression,  '  Rest  her  soul  in 
peace ! '  is  so  Popish,  being  a  prayer  for  the  dead,  that  it 
is  '  most  dangerous.' 

"  I  have  published,  with  many  corrections,  my  sermon 
(not  story)  of  Wee  Davie,  and  12,000  sold  in  a  weeL 
It  is  intended  for  the  working  men  of  Scotland  chiefly." 


114  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  the  Rev.  W.  F.  Stevenson  : — 

Tioii-NA-BKUACii,   Kyles  OF  BuTE,  Atiguf.t\i,  IROl. 

"I  must  try  a  volume  of  addresses  to  the  workiut,' 
classes,  or  '  Barony  Sermons.'*  The  spirit  and  teaching  of 
the  Magazine  form  a  constant  subject  of  anxiety.  I  want 
to  intone  all  its  services  more  with  the  direct  Christian 
.spirit,  and  shall  do  so,  or  give  it  up. 

"  As  to  Ned,  the  story  is  a  serious  affair  with  me.  I 
wish  to  show  the  Christian  life  working  in  a  boy  placed 
in  rather  trying  circumstances,  and  becoming  stronger 
throuoh  falls  and  trials — to  illustrate,  in  short,  a  life  be<Min, 
like  that  of  many,  in  the  secret  recesses  of  early  life,  and 
disciplined  by  Christ  through  a  long  course  of  years.  I 
don't  find  the  process,  as  described  in  most  'evangelical' 
tracts,  by  which  many  men  become  at  last  strong  in 
Christ,  to  be  true  to  life  as  I  see  it,  so  that  good  boys  in 
tracts  are  not  like  those  I  have  ever  met  with. — Ned  is. 
Along  with  this  I  wish  to  excite  interest  in  sailors,  and  to 
preach  the  gospel  to  those  also  who  may  hear  for  the  sake 
of  the  story.  I  cannot  think  that  I  shall  utterly  fail,  or 
injure  the  cause  dearer  to  me  than  life  itself,  when  I 
know  that  I  have  only  truth  in  view,  and  daily  pray  to 
Christ  to  guide  me.  Oh  !  my  dear  friend,  from  my  heart 
I  say  it,  I  would  sooner  die  than  consciously  injure 
that  cause  by  anything  I  write,  should  it  gain  me  the 
fame  of  the  greatest  names  in  literature !  As  a  literary 
production  Ned  is  a  twopenny  affair,  but  I  am  encouraged 
to  write  it  as  a  medium  of  preaching  Christ." 

To  the  Same  : — 

Nwember  6,  1861. 

"  I  sincerely  thank  you  for  your  criticisms  on  Ned. 
I  accept  wliat  you  say  about  the  liumanity  of  the 
story.  I  wished  to  draw  men  towards  me  on  the  human 
ground,  that  so  they  might  go  up  higher  with  me  towards 
super-human  good.  The  story  points  to  that  direction. 
The  hands  of  Esau  may  lead  wild  men  to  listen  to  the 
voice  of  Jacob." 

*  Afterwards  published  under  the  title,  '*  Simple  Truths." 


i860 — 6  J.  it5 

To  Colonel  DREGnORN  (in  answer  to  a  letter  reminding  him  of 
a  promise  to  preach  a  sermon  for  the  Society  for  the  Prevention 
of  Cruelty  to  Animals) : — 

Glasgow,  1861. 

"  I  beseech  you  to  have  mercy  on  me  as  an  animal,  and 
get  some  other  brute,  equally  willing  and  more  able  than 
I  am,  to  preach  your  sermon.  I  have  seven  sermons  to 
preach  for  collections  in  other  churches  before  January — 
and  I  am  engaged  three  times  every  Sunday  till  April — 
besides  tons  of  other  work  on  my  back,  I  ask  mercy  with 
the  donkey,  dog,  or  carter's  horse.  My  burthen  is  heavier 
than  I  can  bear.  Let  the  deputy  chairman  spare  his  lash. 
I  have  no  jjower  to  bite  or  kick,  I  can  only  groan. 

"  I'll  feed  the  next  starved  dog  handsomely,  shelter  for 
a  week  the  first  wandering  cat  I  meet,  even  put  my 
shoulder  to  the  next  over-loaded  cart  of  coal,  or  iron  I  see. 
I'll  listen  for  two  hours  to  'David  Bell.'  I'll  do  any  deed 
of  mercy  laid  upon  me  that  I  am  fit  for,  if  you  spare  my 
back  while  editor  of  Good  Words.  In  the  name  of 
every  hard-used  brute,  lay  or  clerical,  animal  or  spiritual, 
I  crave  your  mercy. 

"  Yours  in  trouble." 

In  answer  to  Colonel  Dreghorn's  repeated  request : — 

1861. 

"  Absence  in  Edinburgh  along  with  the  off-putting  of 
the  flesh,  has  prevented  me  from  replying  to  your  note. 
I  shall  honestly  try  to  be  with  you  if  possible  before  the 
meeting  is  over  to  say  a  few  good  words  for  my  brother 
donkeys,  and  all  animals  who  like  myself  are  too  severely 
handled  and  cudgelled  by  the  public.  In  such  suffering 
you  will  I  know  sympathise." 


To  Mrs.  MACLEor) : — 

MoNALTRlE,  September  9,  1861. 

"  Dear  kind  Mrs.  Fuller  Maitland  drove  me  to  Crathie 
on  Saturday.  The  Manse  was  full,  i.e.,  the  minister,  with 
a  son  and  two  grown-up  daughters,  a  lady  from  England 
with  grown-up  son  and  daughter,  a  gentleman  from  Edin- 
burgh and  myself      How  were  they  put  up  ?      The  walls 

I   2 


11 6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

know.  I  don't.  But  as  I  always  say,  no  Manse  was  ever 
so  full,  but  that  (like  a  'bus)  one  more  could  be  taken 
in.  I  preached — by  no  means  comfortably  to  myself.  1 
could  not  remember  one  sentence  (literally)  and  had  to 
trust  to  the  moment  for  expression.  Lord  John  llussell 
there.  But  the  Queen  was  most  cordial  in  her  thanks  for 
the  comfort  I  gave  her,  and  commanded  me  to  return  next 
year.  So  I  must  indulge  the  hope  that  it  was  blessed  far 
more  than  I  could  believe,  judging  from  my  own  feeling. 
I  preached  in  the  evening  for  Anderson.  I  dined  at  the 
Castle,  and  spent  really  a  charming  evening.  I  had  a 
long  walk  with  Lady  Augusta  Bruce  during  the  intei-val, 
and  learned  much  from  her  about  the  death  of  that  noble, 
loving  Avoman,  the  Duchess  of  Kent,  and  of  the  Queen's 
grief  She  was  a  most  God-fearing  Avoman.  I  have  been 
presented  by  the  Queen  with  a  delightful  volume  of  hymns 
which  her  mother  was  fond  of  The  Queen's  distress  was 
deep  and  very  bitter,  but  in  every  respect  such  as  a 
daughter  ought  to  feel.  The  suddenness — unexpected  by 
even  Sir  J.  Clarke — of  course  shocked  her.  At  dinner 
were  present  Princess  Alice  and  \i&x  jmnce.  Prince  Louis 
of  Hesse,  Princess  Hohenlohe,  the  Queen's  half-sister — an 
admirable  woman.  I  sat  beside  Prince  Alfred,  a  fine 
gentlemanly  sailor.  We  had  lots  of  talk.  After  dinner 
I  had  a  most  interesting  conversation,  for  about  half-an- 
hour,  with  the  Prince  Consort,  and  a  good  long  one  with 
the  Queen.     In  short,  it  was  a  most  agreeable  evening." 


From  his  Journal  : — 

'^  Last  night  of  1861. — The  happiest  time  I  have  had 
yet  at  Balmoral  was  this  last  with  the  dear  good  Prince, 
whom  I  truly  mourn. 

"  The  death  !  What  an  event  for  the  nation  !  I  havo 
received  a  letter  from  Lady  Augusta  Bruce,  which  is  very 
delightful,  although  sad." 


CHAPTEE  XVL 

1862—63. 

HIS  theological  views  were  gradually  expanding 
into  a  more  spiritual  and  living  apprehension 
of  the  purpose  of  God  in  Christ.  The  character  of 
God  as  a  Father  had  always  been  the  central  article  of 
his  creed,  but  there  were  wider  applications  of  it  into 
which  his  keen  sympathies  were  constantly  leading 
him.  The  subject  of  the  atonement  of  Christ  much 
engrossed  his  thoughts,  and  although  he  had  been 
long  familiar  with  the  views  held  on  that  subject  by 
his  cousin,  Dr.  J.  Macleod  Campbell,  he  now  found 
in  them  new  meaning  and  adopted  them  more  fully. 
'  As  far  as  it  goes  his  teaching  seems  to  shed  a  light 
on  the  nature  of  Christ's  sufferings,  which  cannot  pass 
away,  because  springing  out  of  the  eternal  nature  of 
things.'  He  may  afterwards  have  diverged,  in  regard 
to  some  minor  points,  from  what  Campbell  taught  him, 
but  he  certainly  never  recurred  to  the  conception  of 
the  sufferings  of  our  Lord  as  penal,  or  to  those  notions 
of  the  nature  of  salvation  which  it  involves.  Feeling 
that  fresh  light  had  been  shed  on  the  purpose  of  God 
in  Christ  he  advanced  hopefully  into  new  regions  of 
thought. 


ii8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


From  his  Journal  : — 

"  Ajri'il  20,  Sunday. — I  am  confined  to  the  house  hy 
bronchitis,  and  enjoy  deeply  and  tliankfvdly  this  blessed 
calm,  this  holy  rest.  What  a  gift  from  God  is  this  holy 
day  !  I  thank  God  that  during  these  last  few  years  I 
enjoy  the  pu][)it  more  and  more,  and  find  it  a  rest  to  my 
spirit  in  jjroportion  as  I  seek  in  the  bonds  of  Christ's  love 
to  do  good,  and  to  make  others  partakers  of  the  rest  in  Him. 
I  have  been  seldom  iii  life  so  exercised  in  spirit  as  during 
the  Sundays  which  preceded  the  communion  and  on  the 
communion  Sunday  itself,  in  preaching  on  the  Atonement, 
according  to  the  vieAV  taken  of  it  by  my  beloved  John 
(Jampbell.  As  far  as  I  am  capable  of  loiowmg  myself,  I  can 
declare  before  Him  who  knows  me  truly,  that  I  sought  by 
earnest  prayer,  j^atient  reading,  and  meditation,  to  know 
God's  revealed  will  with  reference  to  Christ's  work.  It  has 
been  a  subject  which  has  more  or  less  occupied  my  thoughts 
for  years,  and  I  never  allowed  m}self,  I  think,  to  be  carried 
away  by  more  outward  authority,  but  sought  to  see  it  and 
so  to  possess  it  ;  for  seeing  (spiritually)  is  believing.  I 
therefore  always  preached  what  I  saw  and  believed  ;  and 
I  never  did  see  the  truth  as  John  Campbell  sees  it  until 
lately.  I  believed,  and  still  believe,  that  what  Jesus  did 
as  an  atoning  Saviour  He  did  for  all,  because  God  com- 
mands all  men  to  believe  in  Him  as  their  Saviour,  and 
because  He  necessarily  desires  all  men  to  be  saved,  i.e.  to 
be  holy  like  Himself.  But  what  I  never  could  see  was 
the  philoso})hy  of  the  atonement,  or  that  element  in 
Christ's  work  which  constituted  the  atonement.  The 
usual  method  of  explaining  it  (commonly  called  '  the 
Battle  of  the  Attributes  '),  as  penal  suti'ering  from  God's 
Avrath,  and  so  satisfying  divine  justice,  I  could  not  con- 
tradict, but  could  not  see  and  rejoice  in  as  true.  So 
I  was  disposed  to  allow  the  whole  thing  to  remain  a 
mystery — a  fact,  revealed  as  the  ground  of  certain  bless- 
ings which  I  felt  I  needed  and  thankfully  received,  but 
without  any  necessary  connection  being  seen  between  Avhat 
Christ  did  and  what  I  received.  But,  thank  God,  this  is 
dawning  on  me.  and  what  I  see  now  can  never,  T  think, 


i862 — 63.  119 

be  taken  from  rae,  for  conscience  has  its  (moral)  mathe- 
matics as  well  as  the  reason." 

He  was  at  this  time  engaged  in  preparing  the 
'  Old  Lieutenant '  for  republication  in  a  separate  form. 
He  was  quite  aware  of  the  defective  structure  of  the 
story,  but  lie  was  certainly  disappointed  when  some 
of  the  reviews,  whose  criticisms  he  most  respected, 
failed  to  discover  its  aim  and  to  recognize  in  its 
characters  portraits  from  real  life.  Indeed,  so  dis- 
heartened was  he  by  the  reception  of  his  first  serious 
attempt  in  the  domain  of  fiction,  that,  for  a  while,  he 
was  resolved  it  should  be  tlie  last. 

To  J.  M.  Ll'dlow,  Esq. : — 

May,  1862. 

"  Wliat  I  should  like  you  to  do  with  my  'Old  Lieutenant' 
would  be — (1)  to  correct  the  Scotch  or  Scotticisms,  for  I 
never  was  taught  English  ;  (2)  to 
draw  your  pen  through  any  sentence 
or  expression  you  think  better  out 
than  in.  As  for  the  '  'igh  hart,'  it 
must  remain  in  nubihus,  as  '  low  hart ' 
is  my  line.  I  know  I  am  getting  into 
a  fearful  mess  among  the  critics  for 
publishing  it. 

"  I  know  the  book  has  no  art  in 
its  plot,  for  alas  !  I  had  to  write  it 
from  month  to  month,  always  thinking  the  next  month 
would  end  it.  It  is  besides  absurd  to  write  a  story, 
as  I  mtentionally  did,  for  the  preaching  in  it,  instead  of 
preaching  by  it.  But  I  know  the  characters  are  genuine, 
and  true  to  nature,  tor  they  were  all  as  living  beings  who 
possessed  me,  and  there  is  not  one  that  does  not  stand  on 
his  own  legs  as  real  flesh  and  blood.  I  deny  with  my 
whole  soul  and  strength  that  the  teaching  is  unhealthy. 
It  is  not  true  that  whatever  man  asks  lor  in  prayer  he  gets 
in  the  form   in   which    he   asks  it.       The  reviewer   does 


J  20  LirE   OF  XURMAX  ^r ACT. ROD. 

not  trust  in  God  as  I  do.  I  mean  by  this,  a  trust  in  God 
for  whatever  God  gives.  He  seems  to  think  that  it  is  trust 
for  some  specific  blessing.  And  what  did  poor  Ned  ever 
get,  except  his  wife  ?  I  tried  to  picture  a  lad  neither  a 
itnuff  nor  a  Methodist — a  good,  honest  fellow,  trained  up 
sensibly  and  living  honestly,  and  as  any  young  man  may 
live,  and  as  many  do.  But  nowadays,  it  seems,  young  men 
must  be  either  blackguards,  or  perfect  saints.  I  will  main- 
tain that  it  is  a  picture  of  real  life,  though  not  perhaps  of 
London  liffe,  with  its  spasms.  And  the  critic  says  I  don't 
know  the  sea  !  I  wish  I  met  him  on  some  deck.  The  funny 
thing  is  that  the  Examiner  of  Sea  Captams  in  Liverpool  was 
so  astonished  at  my  knowledge  of  the  sea  that  he  begged 
to  know  how  I  got  it,  or  if  a  seaman  had  Avritten  the  sea 
parts  for  me.      If  I  know  anything,  I  know  about  a  ship." 

To  J.  M.  Ludlow,  Esq.  : — 

London,  1862. 

"  Every  mystery  will,  I  presume,  be  solved  some  time  or 
other — perhaps  our  not  meeting  may  be  ex^jlauied  to- 
morrow.    In  the  meantime  it  is  mysterious. 

"  I  paced  before  the  Croydon  Station  for  nearly  an  hour. 
I  studied  every  beard,  conned  every  intellectual  coun- 
tenance (there  were  but  five  worthy  of  the  name)  till  multi- 
tudes had  departed — and  you  came  not.  So,  ba^j  in  hand, 
I  have  taken  refuge  in  Good  Words  office.  I  mourn 
over  the  tempting  invitations  I  have  refused  to  be  with 
you !  I  mourn  the  loss  of  not  seeing  you  and  Hughes  ! 
But  I  mourn  most  not  having  seen  your  mother  1 

"  If  I  had  only  consulted  the  Directory  !     But  now — 


"  It'«  all  up."  "  Youi-8  in  sorrow.' 


3862 63.  121 

To  the  Eev.  "W.  F.  Stevenson  : — 

October  20,  1862, 

"  I  am  pretty  well  convinced,  from  the  reviews  received 
to-day  of  '  Old  Lieutenant '  in  the  London  Review  and 
S}-)ectator,  that  I  am  not  able  to  be  of  use  in  that  line. 
The  book  is  killed  and  buried  for  ever,  though  self-love 
makes  me  think  it  cannot  be  so  bad  as  they  make  it.  I 
shall,  in  the  meantime,  get  what  good  I  can  to  my  own 
spirit  by  the  reviews,  and  learn  to  seek  quiet  and  peace 
more  in  that  still  region  of  labour  before  God  which  earth 
cannot  disturb." 

The  Queen  had  now  come  to  Scotland  for  the  first 
time  since  the  death  of  the  Prince  Consort,  and  Dr. 
Macleod  was  summoned  to  Balmoral.  He  had  been 
profoundly  moved  by  the  death  of  the  Prince,  whom 
he  had  regarded  as  'an  ideal  of  all  that  is  pure, 
truthful,  unselfish,  and  wise ; '  and  from  the  confidence 
with  which  he  had  been  honoured  by  his  Sovereign, 
he  was  able  deeply  to  sympathise  with  her  in  her 
grief. 

Although  his  journals  contain  many  interesting 
accounts  of  his  different  visits  at  Court  and  to 
members  of  the  Eoyal  family,  it  is  in  harmony  with 
the  reticence  he  always  observed  to  give  only  such 
extracts  as  may  indicate  the  confidence  reposed  in 
him,  and  the  loyalty  of  his  services. 

He  ever  recognised  the  grave  responsibility  which, 
these  duties  entailed.  ^  "When  I  think  how  the  cha- 
racter of  princes  affects  the  history  of  the  world,  and 
how  that  character  may  possibly  be  affected  by  what 
I  say,  and  by  the  spirit  in  which  I  speak  and  act,  I 
feel  the  work  laid  upon  me  to  be  very  solemn.' 

'  Your  royal  highness  knows,'  he  said  to  a  younger 


122  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

member  of  the  famil}'^,  whom  he  was  endeavouring  to 
comfort  after  the  death  of  the  Prince,  '  that  I  am  here 
as  a  pastor,  and  that  it  is  only  as  a  pastor  I  am  per- 
mitted to  address  you.  But  as  I  wish  you  to  thank 
me  when  we  meet  before  God,  so  would  I  addi'css  you 
now.' 

^  I  am  never  tempted,'  he  writes,  '  to  conceal  any 
conviction  from  the  Queen,  for  I  feel  she  sympathizes 
with  what  is  true,  and  likes  the  speaker  to  utter  the 
truth  exactly  as  he  believes  it.' 

From  his  Journal  : — 

''May  8,  18G2. — I  am  commanded  by  the  Queen  to 
visit  at  Balmoral  from  Saturday  till  Tuesday. 

"  Few  things  could  be  more  trying  to  me  than,  in 
present  circumstances,  to  meet  my  afflicted  Sovereign  face 
to  face.  But  God,  who  calls  me,  will  aid  me.  My  hope 
is  in  Him,  and  He  will  not  put  me  to  shame.  May  He 
guide  me  to  speak  to  her  fitting  truth  as  to  an  immortal 
being,  a  sister  in  humanity,  a  Queen  with  heavy,  heavy 
trials  to  endure,  .and  such  duties  to  perform  !  j\Iay  I  be 
kept  in  a  right  spirit,  loving,  peaceful,  truthful,  wise,  and 
sympathizing,  carrying  the  burthen  of  her  who  is  my 
sister  in  Christ  and  my  Sovereign.  Father !  Speak  by  me  !" 

Tq  Mrs.  MACLEOD : — 

Balmoral,  May  12,  1862. 

"  You  will  return  thanks  with  me  to  our  Father  in 
heaven  for  His  mercy  and  goodness  in  having  hitherto 
most  surely  guided  me  during  this  time  which  I  lelt  to 
be  a  most  solemn  and  important  era  in  my  life.  All  has 
passed  well — that  is  to  say,  God  enabled  me  to  speak  in 
private  and  in  public  to  the  Queen  in  such  a  way  as 
seemed  to  me  to  be  truth,  the  truth  in  God's  sight :  that 
which  I  believed  she  needed,  though  I  felt  it  would  be 
very  trying  to  her  spirit  to  receive  it.  And  what  tills  me 
with  deepest  thanksgiving  is,  that  she  has  received  it,  and 


I  862 — -63.  123 

written  to  me  such  a  kind,  tender  letter  of  thanks  for  it, 
which  sliall  be  treasured  in  my  heart  while  I  live. 

"  Prince  Alfred  sent  for  me  last  night  to  see  him  before 
going  away.  Thank  God  I  spoke  fully  and  frankly  to  him 
— Ave  were  alone— of  his  difficulties,  temptations,  and  of 
his  father's  example  ;  Avhat  the  nation  expected  of  him  ; 
how,  if  he  did  God's  will,  good  and  able  men  would  rally 
round  him ;  how,  if  he  became  selfish,  a  selfish  set  of 
flatterers  would  truckle  to  him  and  ruin  him,  while  caring 
only  for  themselves.  He  thanked  me  for  all  I  said,  and 
wished  me  to  travel  with  him  to-day  to  Aberdeen,  but  the 
Queen  wishes  to  see  me  again.  I  am  so  thankful  to  have 
the  Duke  of  Argyll  and  my  dear  friend  Lady  Augusta 
Bruce  here.  The  Duchess  of  Athole  also — a  most  delight- 
ful, real  woman." 


From  his  JouKNAL  : — • 

''May  14fA.— Let  me  if  possible  recall  some  of  the 
incidents  of  these  few  days  at  Balmoral,  which  in  after  years 
I  may  read  with  interest,  when  memory  grows  dim 

"After  dinner  I  was  summoned  unexpectedly  to  the 
Queen's  room.  She  was  alone.  She  met  me,  and  with 
an  unutterably  sad  expression  which  filled  my  eyes  with 
tears,  at  once  began  to  speak  about  the  Prince.  It  is  im- 
jDOSsible  for  me  to  recall  distinctly  the  sequence  or  sub- 
stance of  that  long  conversation.  She  spoke  of  his  ex- 
cellencies— his  love,  his  cheerfulness,  how  he  was  every- 
thino"  to  her  ;  how  all  now  on  earth  seemed  dead  to  her. 
She  said  she  never  shut  her  eyes  to  trials,  but  liked  to 
look  them  in  the  face  ;  how  she  would  never  shrink  from 
duty,  but  that  all  Avas  at  pi-esent  done  mechanically;  that 
her  highest  ideas  of  purity  and  love  were  obtained  from 
him,  and  that  God  could  not  be  displeased  with  her  love. 
But  there  was  nothing  morbid  in  her  grief  I  spoke  freely 
to  her  about  all  I  felt  regarding  him— the  love  of  the 
nation  and  their  sympathy  ;  and  took  every  opportunity  of 
bringing  before  her  the  reality  of  God's  love  and  sym- 
pathy, her  noble  calling  as  a  Queen,  the  value  of  her  li  {.0.  to 
the  nation,  the  blessedness  of  prayer. 


124  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  Sunday  tlie  whole  household,  Queen,  and  Royal 
Family  were  assembled  at  10.15.  A  temporary  pulpit 
was  erected.  I  began  with  a  short  prayer,  then  read 
Job  xxiii.,  Psalm  xliL,  beginning  and  end  of  John  xiv., 
and  end  of  Revelations  vii.  After  the  Lord's  Prayer  I 
expounded  Hebrews  xii.  1-12,  and  concluded  with  prayer. 
The  whole  service  was  less  than  an  hour.  I  then  at  12 
preached  at  Crathie  on  'All  things  are  ours.'  In  the 
evening  at  Crathie  on  '  Awake  thou  that  sleepest.'  The 
household  attended  both  services. 

"  On  Monday  I  had  another  long  interview  with  the 
Queen.  She  was  much  more  like  her  old  self — cheerful, 
and  full  of  talk  about  persons  and  things.  She  of  course 
spoke  of  the  Prince.  She  said  that  he  always  believed  he 
was  to  die  soon,  and  that  he  often  told  her  that  he  had 
never  any  fear  of  death. 

"  I  saw  also  the  Princesses  AHce  and  Helena  ;  each  by 
herself. 

"  No  words  of  mine  can  express  the  deep  sympathy  I 
have  for  these  mourners.  From  my  soul  I  shall  ever  pray 
for  them  that  God  would  make  them  His  own  dear  chil- 
dren. 

"  What  a  drive  we  had  on  Monday  up  to  the  falls  of 
the  Garbhalt !  The  great  pines,  the  mossy  flooring 
of  the  woods,  the  pure  streams,  the  herds  of  deer,  the 
aivful  purple  of  the  hills,  the  Avhite  snow  on  their  tops, 
the  enamelled  grass  so  characteristic  of  this  season,  the 
marvellous  lights !  Oh  what  a  glorious  revelation  of  God. 
I  returned  yesterday  full  of  praise. 

"  The  more  I  learn  about  the  Prince  Consort,  the  more 
I  agree  with  what  the  Queen  said  to  me  about  him  on 
Monday,  'that  he  really  did  not  seem  to  comprehend  a 
selfish  character,  or  what  selfishness  was.'  And  on  Avliat- 
ever  day  his  public  life  is  revealed  to  the  world,  I  feel 
certain  this  will  be  recognized. 

"  Dr.  Becker,  to  whom  I  was  complaining  of  Humboldt's 
treatment  of  the  Prince,  told  me  that  the  only  thing  the 
Prince  said  or  wrote  about  it  to  him  Avas,  '  I  am  sorry  for 
poor  Humboldt.'  He  felt  that  such  things  injured  one 
whom  Ik;  so  much  loved  and  admired." 


i862 — 63.  125 

At  the  end  of  May,  accompanied  by  Mrs.  Macleod 
and  his  brother  Donald,  he  took  a  six  weeks'  tour  in 
Italy,  crossing  Mont  Cenis  to  Turin,  and  thence  by 
Genoa  and  the  Eiviera  to  Florence,  Bologna,  Venice, 
Milan,  and  the  Italian  Lakes,  and  returning  home  by 
Courmayeur,  the  Great  St.  Bernard  and  Basle.  His 
impressions  of  Italy  were  afterwards  recorded  in 
Good  Words.* 

To  his  Father  : — 

Florence,  June  3,  1S62. 

"  It  would  take  months  of  patient  study  to  get  even 
a  general  idea  of  the  glories  of  art  in  Florence  ;  we  have 
not  a  shadow  of  an  idea  in  Scotland  of  what  art  is.  In 
this  respect  it  is  a  barbarous  country ;  yet,  in  a  better 
respect,  it  is  as  heaven  to  this.  I  wish  you  saw  Popery  here 
to  loathe  it. 

"  I  preached  last  Sunday.  Protestantism  hardly  exists. 
Little  is  doing  or  can  be  done.  God  alone  can  help  this 
wretched  country.  How  I  know  not,  nor  can  see.  All 
is  beautiful  and  grand,  but  man  and  his  morals." 

To  his  Father  and  Mother  : — 

Lake  Maggiore,  Sunday,  June  15. 

"  The  two  places  I  enjoyed  most  were  Venice  and  two 
days'  rest  at  Bellaggio,  on  the  Lake  of  Como.  The  beauty 
is  really  inconceivable.  For  wild  and  majestic  grandeur 
I  admire  our  own  Highlands  most,  but  for  surpassing  and 
majestic  beauty,  this. 

"  I  preached  in  the  Heclda  steamer  to  the  Jack  Tars  on 
Sunday  last.  Campsie  men  and  Glasgow  men  were  on 
board.  It  Avas  a  pleasant  day.  The  glory  of  Venice 
cannot  be  imagined." 

"  Baveno,  Sunday  evening. — We  crossed  the  lake  to- 
day, and  have  had  a  nice  service.  I  read  the  Liturgy 
and  preached.  We  had  a  delightful  walk  through  the 
vineyards,  and  enjoyed  the  snowy  Alps  in  the  distance." 

*  "  Eambling  Notes  of  a  Eamble  in  Italy." — Good  Words,  1862. 


126 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


To  A.  Strahan,  Esq. : — 

Monastery  of  the  Great  St.  Bernard, 
June  21,  1862. 

"  Ere  I  bid  farewell  to  the  world,  I  wish  to  bid  fare- 
well to  thee.  I  have  resolved  to  join  the  Brothers  of 
St.  .Bernard.  All  is  arranged.  I  find  that  they  never  heard 
of  Presbyterianism,   Free,  or  U.  P.   Kirk  ;   know  nothing 

even  of  Dr.  or  Dr.  ,  and  have  kept  up  service 

here,  helping  the  jioor  and  needy,  for  800  years.  I 
find  I  can  live  here  for  nothing,  never  preach,  but  only 
chant  Latin  prayers ;  that  they  never  attend  public 
meetings,  never  go  to  Exeter  Hall  nor  to  a  General 
Assembly,  but  attend  to  the  big  dogs  and  the  travellers 
of  all  nations.  In  short,  it  is  the  very  place  for  me,  and 
I  have  craved  admission,  and  hope  to  be  received  to-night. 
I  shall  l)e  known  henceforth  as  Frater  Flemingus.  (I 
tliink  I  owe  it  to  the  Captain  to  adopt  his  name.)  IMy 
wife  goes  to  a  nunnery;  I  leave  my  children  to  your  care 
— 8 1  to  you  and  3|  to  Isbister.  Farewell,  best  of  men 
and  of  publishers  !  Farewell,  Isbister,  best  of  men  and 
of    smokers  !       Farewell,    Good    Words !       FareAvell,    the 

world  and  all  its  vanities  ! I  was  interrupted  at  this 

point  by  a  procession  of  monks,  who  came  to  strip  me  ol 
my  worldly  garments,  and  to  prescribe  the  vows.  Before 
changing  garments,  I  inquired  about  the  vows.   Judge  of  my 

amazement  in  findinsr  I 


must  renounce  ci<xars 
for  ever  !   I  pause 

"P.S. — 2  a.m.,  227ui5. 
— The  monks  won't 
give  in.  The  weather 
is  fearfully  cold.  No 
fires  in  the  cells.  The 
dogs  are  mangy. 

"  3  A.M. — I  am  half- 
dead  with  cold.  I  shan't 
lie  in  the  morgue.  I 
repent  ! 

"  G  A.M.  — Off  foT 
London  !      Hurrah  !  " 


i862 — 63.  127 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

August  18,  1862. 

"  I  had  a  delightful  visit  from  Stanley.  He  is  a 
nohle  specimen  of  the  Christian  gentleman  and  scholar. 
When  I  come  into  close  contact  with  such  men  as  he, 
John  Campbell,  Erskine,  Scott,  Maurice,  Davies,  Ludlow, 
Hughes,  I  feel  how  I  could  enjoy  heaven  with  them. 
Whether  it  is  my  defect  or  theirs  I  know  not,  but  the 
narrow,  exclusive,  hard  hyper-Calvinistic  schools  repel  me, 
and  make  me  nervously  unhappy.  I  cry  to  God  daily  for 
humility  to  love  all,  and  to  feel  that  I  am  saved  as  a 
sinner  who,  as  such,  must  have  disgusted  the  angels.  Our 
pride  is  devilish,  and  when  I  know  how  much  better  many 
of  those  who  repel  me  are  than  I  am,  or  ever  have  been, 
I  am  ashamed  of  my  pride,  and  that  I  cannot  clasp  them 
to  my  heart.  I  should  despair,  unless  I  beheved  that 
Jesus  Christ  can  and  will  deliver  me,  and  give  me  to  enjoy 
the  unspeakable  heaven  of  being  a  humble,  meek  child 
without  my  knowing  it,  but  simply  being  it,  loving  it,  so 
that  by  the  supernatural  I  may  become  natural,  for  sin  in 
every  form  is  so  unnatural. 

"  I  never  had  a  happier  day  than  yesterday.  I  preached 
on  the  first  two  parables  of  the  fifteenth  chapter  of  Luke, 
and  felt  so  strong  and  happy  in  preaching.  The  highest 
conceivable  enjoyment  is  to  preach,  even  in  a  small  degTee, 
in  sympathy  with  Christ — to  feel  that  He  is  w^ith  us,  to 
speak  what  you  know  is  right,  and  in  the  right  spirit  of 
good-will  and  unselfish  love.  I  believe  that  God  will  help 
our  India  Mission,  and  bless  us  as  a  congregation  by 
somehow  connecting  us  with  this  work. 

"  1  have  the  most  intense  desire  to  spend  the  next  ten 
years  of  my  life,  if  these  are  given  me,  more  earnestly 
than  I  have  ever  done.  At  sixty  I  shall  be  unfit  for  active 
work.  Whatever  I  can  write  for  the  good  of  my  fellow- 
men  must  be  done  in  this  time.  It  is  a  glorious  gift, 
and  by  the  help  of  the  Almighty  I  may  yet  overcome  the 
bad  habits  of  sloth  and  want  of  method." 


128  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  tbi-  Rev.  W.  F.  Stevenson  : — 

October  4,  18(J2. 

"  Tlianks  for  your  delightful  volume.*  No  Presbyterian 
lias  written  before  in  such  a  catholic  spirit  ;  and  this  I  feel 
to  be  a  great  want  of  our  Church.  We  ignore  sixteen 
centuries  almost  ;  we  dig  deeper  and  deeper  the  trenches, 
— whicli  genial  nature  was  kindly  filling  up  with  swoot 
flowers, — to  keep  up  the  old  division  lines,  instead  of  build- 
ing bridges  to  comiect  us  as  far  as  possible  with  the 
Church  Catholic.  Judaical  separation  won't  do,  far  less 
Pharisaical.  The  only  separation  which  is  good  is  that  of 
greater  praying  and  working,  which,  like  true  love,  is  at 
once  the  most  separating  and  most  uniting  element.  The 
'  Stand  back,  I  am  holier  than  thou,'  must  be  exchanged 
for  the  '  Come  near,  for  I  am  holier  than  thou  through 
grace,  which  is  thine  as  well  as  mine,  and  mine  too  for 
thee.'     God  bless  your  book  !  " 

From  hi?  Jouuxal  : — 

"  Nov.  3. — I  this  day  begin  my  winter's  work.  I  am 
persuaded  that  God  is  shutting  me  up  in  His  providence 
to  a  deo})er,  inner  mission  in  my  own  spirit  and  in  my 
parish.  ^\'hat  I  am  longing  to  obtain  is  more  of  the 
glory  and  blessedness  of  love  and  humility.  Humility 
towards  God  and  man  would  be  heaven.  I  have  been 
greatly  quickened  to  aim  at  this  by  Yinet's  noble  senxion 
on  '  Submitting  one  to  another,'  and  '  Lifting  up  holy 
hands.'  There  is  no  sermon-writer  who  masters  me  as  he 
does — so  searching,  so  faithful,  so  discriminating  and  holy. 
I  feel  now  that  the  rest  of  my  life  will  be  nobly  spent  if  I 
can  only,  by  the  constant  help  of  Almighty  grace,  seek 
daily  to  go  out  of  myself  in  love  to  God  and  man, 
showing  it  by  patience,  silence,  sympathy,  forbearance — 
the  esteeming  others  better  than  myself — honouring  them, 
submitting  to  them,  being  nobody,  and  my  brother  all-in- 
all  to  me. 

"  My  proposed  work  will  be  : — 

"  Regular  visitation  of  the  sick  and  aged,  and  weekly 
visits  of  communicants. 

*  "  Praying  and  Working." 


l862 — 63.  I2q 

"  Careful  preparation  of  lectures,  sermons,  and  pra^'ers. 

"  Thursday  evening  prayer  meetings. 

"  Weekly  district  meetings. 

"  Visit  the  Workhouse  and,  if  possible,  the  Hospital 

"  With  God's  help,  I  should  like  to  rise  at  half-past  iive. 
Spend  half-an-hour  at  least  in  devotion.  Write  till  9. 
Keep  Friday  and  Saturday  exclusively  for  pulpit. 

"  Wednesday  night,  district  ;  Thursday,  7  to  8,  people 
in  vestry  ;  8,  meeting.  Monday,  sick  and  sorrowing. 
Tuesday  and  Thursday,  visitation. 

"  Tuesday,  Nov.  25. — My  beloved  father  died  this 
morning,  between  one  and  two,  in  his  seventy-ninth  year. 
We  have  lost  as  loving  a  father  as  ever  blessed  a  family. 

"  God  has  called  him,  and  spared  my  beloved  mother. 

"  I  defer  writing  anything  about  his  death." 

"26^/i  April,  1863. — Having  the  first  quiet  Sunday 
evening  since  January  1 ,  I  wish  to  go  back  in  my  Journal, 
and  to  record  a  few  events  which  I  would  like  to  remember 
in  detail. 

"  I  had  been  out  of  town,  and  returned  home  on 
Monday.  Having  much  to  do,  I  sat  down  to  work.  It 
was  a  close,  foggy  night.  Just  as  I  was  settled  to  my 
writing,  I  remembered  that  I  had  not  seen  my  dear  father 
since  Friday.  Anxious  to  save  time  I  went  out  as  I  was, 
intending  to  spend  only  a  few  minutes  with  him.  But  I 
found  my  mother  out,  an  event  which  had  not  happened, 
I  presume,  for  years.  So  1  stayed  a  long  time,  and  to 
cheer  him  talked  over  old  Morven  stories.  He  had  been 
dull  all  day,  but  I  did  cheer  him  so  that  I  never  saw  him 
more  happy.  We  parted  at  ten.  My  door-bell  rang* 
about  one  A.M.,  and  a  message  was  brought  to  my  bed 
that  he  was  dying.  In  a  few  minutes,  another.  I 
hurried  down — ^he  was  dead  !  I  went  to  his  room,  and 
there  he  lay  as  he  had  died — asleep  !  I  did  not  weep, 
nor  did  I  feel  the  least  excited.  The  Lord  knows  how  this 
was  ;  but  so  it  was.  I  felt  less  a  great  deal  than  I  had 
often  done  in  visiting  the  poorest,  even  strangers,  in  time 

of  distress There   he  lay,  with   that  noble 

head  and  white  hair — but  Avhy  describe  it  ? 

VOL.    IT.  K 


130  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  In  nil  my  life  I  never  saw  such  a  glorious  face  in 
death.  He  lay  for  a  week  in  that  coffin,  pure  and  sweet 
as  marble.  The  red  was  in  his  lips,  and  there  was  a 
nobleness,  a  grandeur,  a  dignity,  about  that  face  and  head, 
which  were  fascinating.  I  can  describe  the  feeling  they 
created  by  no  other  word. 

"  The  remarkable  things  on  the  day  of  the  public 
funeral  were  the  number  of  Highland  women,  old  and 
young,  who  struggled  with  obvious  difficulty  in  keeping 
up  with  the  hear.se  until  it  reached  the  Baron)'-,  where  we 
parted  from  the  general  company,  and  went  to  dear  old 
Campsie.  There  the  spectacle  was  very  remarkable.  It 
was  twenty-five  years  since  he  had  left  that  parish,  and 
yet  in  a  town  of  two  thousand  every  shop  was  shut  sponta- 
neously. There  we  laid  hioi  and  returned  to  my  beloved 
mother. 

"Since  then  the  house,  which  for  twenty-five  years 
has  been  the  centre  of  such  love  and  life,  has  been  emptied, 
and  a  great  chapter  has  been  closed.  We  all  inteusely 
realise  it." 

nis  experience  in  the  management  of  an  enormous 
parish  had  convinced  him  that,  however  well  it  may 
be  administered,  the  Poor  Law  necessarily  entails 
moral  and  social  consequences,  which,  if'  not  counter- 
acted, must  seriously  affect  the  well-being  of  the  com- 
munity, lie  believed  it  was  worse  than  a  mistake  to 
place  the  deserving  poor  on  the  same  level  with  the 
idle  and  disreputable,  and  thus  destroy  that  self-respect 
which  is  the  best  safeguard  against  pauperism.  The 
substitution  of  statutory  rates  for  the  exercise  of 
Christian  charity,  must,  in  his  opinion,  ultimately 
demoralise  both  rich  and  poor.  The  gulf  which  was 
every  day  becoming  wider  between  class  and  class, 
between  the  brother  who  was  '  increased  with  goods,' 
in  the  "West  End,  and  the  brother  '  who  had  need,' 
in  the  East  End  of  the  City,  appeared  to  him  one  of 


i862 — 63.  131 

tliG  gravest  problems  with  which  the  Church  had  to 
deal,  and  how  to  create  '  bridges '  across  the  gulf  be 
came  for  a  while  the  absorbing  topic  of  his  reflections. 
An  article  which  appeared  in  Good  Words^  from  the 
pen  of  his  friend  the  Eev.  W.  F.  Stevenson,  on  the 
practical  application  at  Elberfeldt  of  Dr.  Chalmers' 
plan  for  relieving  the  poor,  struck  him  so  much  that 
he  determined  to  see  for  himself  what  the  writer 
described.  He  accordingly  made  a  brief  excursion  to 
Germany  in  the  month  of  February,  accompanied  by 
Mr.  Stevenson,  the  Eev.  Adoph  Saphir,  and  his 
brother  Donald,  and  after  visiting  Pastor  Fliedner's 
Deaconess  Institution,  at  Kaiserswerth,  spent  two 
days  at  Elberfeldt.*  On  his  return  to  Glasgow  he 
gave  a  lecture  '  On  East  and  West,'  to  an  influential 
audience  in  the  Corporation  Galleries  ;  and  as  the 
season  was  too  near  an  end  for  gaining  any  practical 
result,  he  intimated  his  intention  to  repeat  it  next 
winter,  and  to  follow  it  up  by  a  discourse  on  'Bridges,' 
in  which  he  would  propose  a  remedy  for  the  evils  he 
had  described.  This  intention  he  was  unable  to  ac- 
complish, f  and  a  paper  in  Good  Words,  afterwards 
published  in  a  separate  form,+  alone  remains  to  indi- 
cate the  direction  in  which  his  thoughts  were  then 
turned. 

*  An  account  of  this  journey  was  given  in  Oood  Words,  "  Up  the 
Bhine  in  Winter,  by  Four  Friends."  Each  of  the  travellers  contri- 
buted a  portion ;  Stevenson  describing  Kaiserwerth  and  Elberfeldt, 
Sapbir  a  visit  to  Dr.  Lange  at  Bonn,  Dr.  Macleod  the  Carnival 
at  Cologne,  and  his  brother  the  Ehine  scenery  in  winter. 

I  The  unaccountable  disappearance  of  his  first  lecture  was,  in  the 
midst  of  a  busy  winter,  one  of  the  chief  hindrances  to  his  resuming 
the  subject. 

I  "How  can  we  best  Relieve  our  Deserving  Poor  ? "  Strahan, 
1867. 

K    2 


i3«  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  Jouexal  : — 

"March,  18G3. — On  my  return  from  Germany  I  went 
to  Windsor.  I  reached  Monday  night,  but  did  not  see 
the  Queen.  I  made  the  acquaintance  of  the  Dean  of 
Windsor  (Wellesley,  nephew  of  the  Duke),  one  of  those 
noble  specimens  of  the  pious  Christian  gentleman  which 
is  characteristic  of  the  English  Church  above  all  others. 
Next  day  I  walked  with  Lady  Augusta  to  the  Mausoleum 
to  meet  the  Queen.  She  was  accompanied  by  the  Princess 
Alice.  She  had  the  key,  and  opened  it  herself,  undoing 
the  bolts,  and  alone  we  entered  and  stood  in  silence  beside 
Marochetti's  beautiful  statue  of  the  Prince.  I  was  very 
much  overcome.      She  was  calm  and  quiet. 

"  We  parted  at  the  entrance,  and  I  accompanied  Lady 
Auijusta  to  Frosfmore,  and  the  tomb  of  the  Duchess  of 
Kent.  She,  the  Duchess,  mrst  have  been  a  most  unselfish, 
devoted  mother.  All  the  ender  things  Lady  Augusta 
said  about  her  were  quite  in  keeping  with  what  I  had 
before  heard. 

"  I  had  a  private  interview  at  night  with  the  Queen. 
She  is  so  true,  so  genuine,  I  w\)nder  not  at  her  sorrow. 
To  me  it  is  quite  natural,  and  has  not  a  bit  of  morl)id 
feeling  in  it.  It  but  expresses  the  greatest  loss  that  a 
sovereign  and  wife  could  sustain. 

"  Next  day  I  went  through  Windsor,  which  is  the  heau 
ideal  of  a  royal  residence.  There  are  some  grand  pictures 
in  it,  and  also  a  number  of  poor  ones.  Except  the 
royal  apartments  in  the  Kremlin,  these  are  the  finest  in 
Europe. 

"  I  returned  home  and  went  back  to  the  marriage  on 
the  10th  of  March.  I  was  in  full  court  dress,  but  found 
I  could  have  gone  in  gown  and  bands.  Why  describe 
Avhat  has  been  given  in  full  detail  ?  I  got  beside  Kingsley, 
Stanley,  Birch,  and  in  a  fimious  place.  Being  in  front  of 
the  royal  pair  we  saw  better  than  any,  except  the  clergy. 
It  was  a  gorgeous  sight,  yet  somehow  did  not  excite  me. 
I  suppose  I  am  past  this. 

"  Two  things  struck  me  much.  One  Avas  the  whole  of 
the  royal  })rincesses  weeping,  though  concealing  their  tears 
with  their  bouquets,  as  they  saw  their  brother,  who  was  to 


i862 — 63.  133 

tliem  but  their  'Bertie'  and  their  dear  father's  son,  stand- 
ino-  alone  waitinsr  for  his  bride.  The  other  was  the  Queen's 
expression  as  she  raised  her  eyes  to  heaven,  while  her  hus- 
band's Chorale  was  sung.  She  seemed  to  be  with  him 
alone  before  the  throne  of  God." 


To  Eev.  A.  Clerk,  LL.D.  : — 

"  Even  you  have  little  idea  of  the  overwhelming 
business  Avhich  has  been  laid  on  me  by  Providence.  I 
am  able  to  keep  peace  at  the  heart,  but  with  extreme 
difficulty  ;  for  it  is  so  vexing  to  be  able  to  do  nothing 
well  which  is  attempted,  and  to  leave  so  much  utterly 
undone. 

"  The  Prince's  marriage  was,  of  course,  a  splendid  affair. 
I  could  not  helj)  smiling  at  your  idea  of  my  requiring 
much  grace  to  return  to  my  work  !  I  returned  with 
quiet  thanksgiving ;  for,  believe  me,  spectacles  of  that 
sort  don't  even  excite  me.  They  interest  me  much  ;  but 
a  day  in  Glen  Nevis  would  unfit  me  much  more  for  the 
Glasgow  closes.  I  hope  in  summer  to  have  the  joy  of 
visiting  King  Ben  and  his  Queen,  the  Glen," 

To  the  Eev.  W.  F.  Stevenson  : — 

March  16,  1863. 

"  I  gave  my  lecture  on  East  and  West  on  Monday  to 
a  great  audience,  but  from  want  of  time  I  could  say 
little  about  Elberfeldt,  so  I  mean  to  open  next  winter's 
course  with  a  lecture  on  *  Bridges,'  or  how  to  connect 
East  and  West.  To  this  end  I  mean  to  work  during 
summer,  collecting  facts  about  such  practical  efforts  in 
other  places  as  may  be  suitable  for  this  city." 

From  his  Jouenal  : — 

''Tuesday,  May  25th. — I  returned  last  night  from 
Balmoral.  The  weather  magnificent.  I  was  in  singularly 
dull  spirits. 

"  1  saw  the  Queen  on  Sunday  night,  and  had  a  long 
and  very  confidential  talk  with  her. 


134  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  I  feel  slie  wishes  me  to  utter,  as  I  <lo,  anything,  which 
in  my  soul  I  feel  to  be  true,  and  according  to  God's  will. 
She  has  a  reasoning,  searching  mind,  anxious  to  get  at 
the  root  and  the  reality  of  things,  and  abhors  all  slunus, 
whether  in  word  or  deed. 

"  Truly  I  need  a  higher  wisdom  than  my  own  to  use 
the  great  talent  God  has  given  me  to  speak  the  truth  in 
wisdom,  and  in  love  without  fear  of  man." 


•'  I  record  a  specimen  of  my  boy's  theology  : — 

"  J.  '  Auntie,  what  prayer  shall  I  say  ?  Shall  I  say, 
"  When  I  lay  me  down  to  sleep,  angels  will  me  keep  ?  "  ' 

"J..    '  Yes  ;  say  that.' 

"  /.   '  Mamma  says  that  good  angels  keep  good  boys.' 

"  A.  '  Shall  I  leave  the  candle  burning  ?  Are  you 
frightened  ? ' 

"  /.    '  Yes — no — yes  ;  leave  it  burning.' 

"  A.    '  AVhat  are  you  frightened  for  ? ' 

«*  /.   '  Rats.' 

"A.   '  Tliink  you,  dear,  about  the  good  angels.* 

*'  J.   '  Can  they  hill  ruts  V  " 

As  it  was  thought  desirable  to  send  deputies  from 
the  Church  to  visit  the  stations  which  the  Committee 
of  the  Jewish  Mission  was  establishing  in  the 
Levant,  Dr.  Macleod  and  his  friend  Dr.  Macduff 
volunteered  their  services  for  this  duty,  and  offered 
to  fulfil  it  at  their  own  cost.  They  resolved,  how- 
ever, not  to  go  except  the  General  Assembly  was 
perfectly  unanimous  in  its  decision.  This  condition 
not  having  been  fulfilled,  they  gave  up  all  thoughts 
of  the  expedition. 

To  Dr.  Macduff  : — 

"  All  will  go  well,  I  hope,  in  the  Assembly.  AVe  do 
not  go,  of  course ;  but  I  hope  enough  sense  and  gene- 


i862 — 63.  135 


rosity  will  be  found  as  to  let  us  off  with  grace.      Fear 
not !  you  and  I  shall  come  well  out  of  this  business." 


''> 


The  Children  of  Israel  as  they  are. 

The  opposition  to  Good  Words ^  which  he  had  anti- 
cipated from  a  section  of  the  religious  world,  and  of 
which  some  faint  murmurs  had  already  reached  him, 
at  last  broke  out  with  a  violence  for  which  he  was 
certainly  not  prepared.  The  Record  newspaper 
published  a  series  of  criticisms  of  the  magazine, 
especially  referring  to  the  contributions  of  Principal 
Tulloch,  Dr.  Lee,  Dr.  Caird,  and  Dr.  Macleod,  which, 
besides  wrath  and  bitterness,  displayed  so  much 
deliberate  dishonesty,  that  he  was  utterly  shocked  by 
the  revelation  it  gave  of  the  spirit  reigning  in  the 
narrower  circle  of  the  '  Evangelical '  world.  The 
maledictions  of  the  Record,  reprinted  in  the  form 
of  a  pamphlet,  and  widely  circulated  in  England  and 
Scotland,  were  caught  up  and  re-echoed  by  kindred 
organs  throughout  the  country,  and  had  the  effect  of 
making  the  editor  of  the  offending  periodical  an 
object  of  suspicion  to  many  whose  good- will  he 
valued.  A  ludicrous  anti-climax  was  reached  in  the 
Controversy,  when  the  Presbytery  of  Strathbogie 
gravely  ^  overtured '  the  General  Assembly  of  the 
Free  Church  to  take  Good  Words  into  its  consideration. 
If  Dr.  Macleod  was  indignant  under  this  treatment,, 
he  was  still  more  grieved  and  ashamed.     He  never, 


136-  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

however,  lost  the  confidence  of  the  healthier  '  Evan- 
gelical '  party  in  all  Churches,  and  an  able  exposure 
of  the  spiteful  character  of  the  criticisms  in  the 
Record  which  appeared  in  the  Patriot,  did  much 
even  to  remove  the  suspicions  under  which  he  lay 
with  the  weaker  brethren. 

From  his  JoxmNAL  : — 

"  A  series  of  reviews  on  Good  Words  have  appeared  in 
the  Record  newspaper.  What  gives  these  furious  attacks 
any  interest  to  rne  is  the  evidence  which  they  afford  of 
tlie  state  of  a  section  of  the  Evangelical  Church  Avhich  sets 
itself  up  as  the  perfection  of  '  Evangelicalism.' 

"...  I  was  quite  aware  of  the  risk  I  should  run  from  the 
narrow  scliool  of  perfectly  conscientious  people,  weak  albeit 
and  ignorant  of  the  big  world,  and  of  the  necessities  of 
the  times,  and  of  what  might  be  done  for  Christ's  cause 
and  kingdom  by  wiser  and  broader  means. 

"  I  had  tried  the  very  same  experiment  in  the  old 
Edinburgh  Christian  Magazine,  for  ten  years.  It  never 
paid  :  its  circulation  was  about  four  thousand.  But  I  held 
on  till  the  publishers,  who  had  little  capital  and  less 
enterprise,  gave  it  up  in  despair.  But  while  I  met  con- 
stant opposition  from  the  weaker  brethren,  I  held  on  with 
the  hope  of  emancipating  cheap  rehgious  literature  from 
the  narrowness  and  weakness  to  which  it  had  come.  Good 
Words  has  now  risen  to  a  circulation  of  one  hundred  and 
ten  thousand  monthly,  while  Ave  print  one  hundred  and 
twenty  thousand.  Thus  the  experiment  has  so  far  suc- 
ceeded. I  resolved  to  publish  the  names  of  contributors, 
so  that  each  man  would  feel  he  was  responsible  for  his 
own  share  of  the  work  only,  while  I  was  responsible  for 
the  whole.  Until  this  moment  it  has  been  welcomed, 
but  the  Record  has  opened  fire — Strahnn  told  me  it  was 
to  do  so.  The  articles  afford  frightful  evidence  of  the 
low  state  to  which  Pharisaical  '  Evangelicalism  '  has  come. 
Tliey  have  been  ably  answered  in  a  series  of  nrticles  in 
the  Patriot.      I  don't  know,   nor  suspect  by  whom.      An 


1862—63.  137 

attempt  is  being  made  to  get  Good  Words  rejected  by 
Tract  Societies,  the  Pure  Literary  Society,  &c.  It  is 
incomprehensible  to  me  that,  at  a  time  when  the  very 
citadel  of  truth  is  attacked,  these  men  are  not  thankful 
for  such  a  sincere  and  hearty  defence.  Strahan  writes 
me  that  since  the  attack  he  has  sold  more  than  ever. 
But  this  is  a  secondary  consideration.  My  own  belief 
is  that  the  magazine  will  for  a  time  be  injured.  So  many 
thousands  of  well-intentioned  people  are  slaves  to  religious 
papers  (among  the  worst  in  existence),  and  to  their  weak- 
headed  '  Evangelical '  pastors,  as  much  as  any  Papists  to 
their  church  or  priesthood ;  and  so  many  men  are  terrified 
to  be  held  up  as  'unevangelical,'  that  I  don't  think  they  are 
as  yet  prepared  for  a  magazine  which  shall  honestly  repre- 
sent the  various  subjects,  besides  '  religion,'  v;hich  in  point 
of  fact  so  occupy  the  thoughts  of  good  men. 

"  The  '  world '  is  that  which  is  *  not  of  the  Father.'  TI10 
so-called  '  Evangelical  party  ' — for,  thank  God,  they  are 
but  &,  small  clique — are  becoming  the  worshippers  of 
mere  Shibboleths — phrases.  The  shortest  road  to  be 
considered  religious  is  to  adhere  to  a  creed  in  words, 
and  to  keep  up  a  cant  vocabulary.  Let  two  men  appear 
in  a  certain  circle  of  society  of  London,  and  let  one  man 
speak  of  '  the  Lord's  people,'  '  a  man  of  God,'  '  a  great 
work  going  on  of  revival,'  &c.,  and  another  speak  of  'good 
christian  people,'  '  a  good  man,'  '  good  doing,'  the  first 
man  is  dubbed  godly,  and  the  other  man  at  least  doubtful, 
and  all  from  phrases !  The  one  man's  sins,  misrepresen- 
tations, uncharitableness,  are  put  down  to  the  frailties  of  '  a 
man  of  God  ;'  the  other  man's  excellencies  to  vain  appear- 
ances. The  evil  of  the  one  is  accounted  for,  the  good  of 
the  other  denied  or  suspected.      This  is  horrible  ! 

"  In  like  manner,  though  a  m.an  believes,  as  I  do,  with 
his  whole  soul  the  doctrines  of  Scripture,  yet  woe  to  him 
unless  he  believes  the  precise  philosophy,  or  the  systematic 
form  of  those  doctrines  held  by  the  clique!  It  is  not 
enough  that  you  believe  in  Christ's  life  and  death  as  an 
atonement,  as  revealing  God's  love,  as  that  without  which 
there  is  no  pardon  for  sin,  as  that  by  which  we  are  recon- 
ciled to    God.       They    will   tell  you  that  you    deny  tho 


138  LIFE  OB'  XQRMAN  MACLEOD. 

atonenioTit  unloss  you  believe  that  Christ  on  tlio  oro<;g 
endured  the  punishment  which  was  (hie  to  each  sinner  of 
the  elect  for  whom  He  died  ;  wliich,  thank  God,  I  don't 
believe,  as  I  know  He  died  for  the  whole  world.  They 
never  seem  to  be  aware  of  the  ditticulties  connected  with 
the  philosophy  of  the  atonement :  what  it  was,  how 
Christ  bore  our  sins,  how  this  stands  connected  with 
jiardon,  or  man's  spiritual  life.  And  so  as  regards  every 
other  jloctrine  :  a  man  may  believe  in  the  corruption  of 
human  nature,  and  to  the  extent  that  it  requires  the 
supernatural  power  of  God's  Holy  Spirit  to  renew  us  and 
make  us  holy — Init  Anathema !  unless  you  believe  that 
you  are  damned  for  Adam's  sin,  and  that  a  man  has  to  be 
passive  as  a  stone  till  God,  on  what  principle  we  know  not, 
acts  on  him.  It  is  not  enough  to  believe  that  sin  is 
cursed,  and  that  so  longf  as  a  sinner  remains  in  this  world 
or  anywhere  loving  sin,  lie  is  in  hell.  But  you  must  be- 
lieve in  literal  fire  and  brimstone  :  a  lake  of  fire,  into 
which  infants  even  may  be  cast,  or  you  are  not  '  Evan- 
gelical!' In  vain  you  vow  that  you  submit  to  Christ's 
teaching,  that  Avhatever  He  says  you  believe,  that  you 
submit  to  it,  and  are  sure  that  ultimatel}'-  reason  and  con- 
science will  rejoice  in  it.  Anathema !  unless  you  see 
A  B  C  to  be  Christ's  teaching,  the  proof  of  which  is,  that 
not  the  Pope  nor  the  Church,  but  that  we,  the  '  Evangelical 
Church,'  the  Record,  or  Dr.  This  or  Dr.  That,  thinks  so,  says 
so,  and  curses  every  man  who  thinks  or  says  c'it^crently. 

"  Along  with  all  this  fury  in  defending  '  the  faith ' 
(forsooth  !)  '  once  delivered  to  the  saints '  (as  if  Abraham 
were  a  Recordite),  there  is  such  a  spirit  of  hatred  and 
gross  dishonesty  manifested  that  it  has  driven  more  aAvay 
from  real  Christianity  than  all  the  rationalists  who  have 
ever  written.  God  helping  me,  I  will  continue  Good  Words 
as  I  have  beijun.  If  good  men  will  cast  me  out  of  their 
hearts,  I  feel  most  deeply  the  loss,  but  I  must  carry  this 
cross.  It  is  my  daily  prayer  to  be  guided  in  it  for  the 
glory  of  my  Redeemer,  and  I  wish  each  number  to  have 
such  a  testimony  for  Him  in  it  as  that  I  shall  be  able  to 
put  it  under  my  pillow  when  I  die. 

"  1   was   threatened   in  London  that  unless   I  gave   up 


Stanley  and  Kingsley  I  should  be  '  crushed  ! '  What  a 
wretched  hypocrite  I  would  be  if  I  practically  declared 
that  I  did  not  think  these  men  worthy  of  writing  beside 
me  !  Only  think  of  it,  Editor !  Strahan  and  I  aorecd 
to  let  Good  Wo7'd8  perish,  perish  a    hundred   times,  before 

we  would  play  such  a  false  part  as  this. or  — • — 

accepted  as  Christ's  friend,  and  Arthur  Stanley  rej(3cted  as 
His  enemy !  It  might  njake  the  devils  laugh  and  angels 
weep  !  Good  Words  may  perish,  but  I  will  never  save  it 
by  such  sacrifices  of  principle  as  this. 

"  I  believe  the  warfare  begun  by  that  miseralde  Record— 
which  I  have  abhorred  ever  since  it  wrote  about  dear 
Arnold — will  end  in  the  question,  how  far  the  truly  pious 
Church  of  Christ  in  this  country  is  to  be  ruled  by  a  small 
synagogue  of  Pharisees  and  good  old  women,  includiug 
men  not  a  few.      We  shall  see. 

"  Yet  I  go  this  week  to  the  Evangelical  Alliance  !  Yes 
I  do.  I  have  received  much  spiritual  good  from  its  meet- 
ings. I  won't  be  driven  off  by  the  Record.  But  I  shall 
see  of  what  spirit  it  is  now  of,  and  will  continue  in  it  or 
leave  it  as  I  find  it  riofht. 

"  My  Father,  forgive  my  keen  feeling  if  I  do  injustice 
to  the  weakest  child  of  God  ;  help  me  to  be  humble  and 
meek,  but  courageous  and  sincere.      Amen." 

"May  25. — The  AUiance  meeting  has  convinced  me 
that  all  mind,  all  grasp,  all  power  arising  from  love  guided 
by  sound  judgment  has  ceased  to  characterise  it.  It  has 
become  the  type  of  exclusion  rather  than  inclusion,  and 
'  terrified  for  the  adversaries,'  it  is  shrinking  into  a 
small  cell.  I  will  leave  it.  The  Alliance  should  include 
all  who  acknowledge  the  supreme  authority  of  the  Lord 
Jesus  and  that  of  the  Holy  Scripture. 

"Dear  Sir  Culling  is  dead.  He  has  joined  the  true 
Ahiance,  and  no  man  will  be  more  at  home  in  heaven." 

The  following  letter,  written  in  answer  to  a  respect- 
ful remonstrance  from  one  of  the  Professors  in  the 
University  of  Edinburgh,  was  printed  for  private 
circulation. 


140  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Glasgow,  ./«ne,  1S03. 
"  I  tliank  you  for  your  note  ;  because  I  leel  assured 
that  you  meant  it  kindly. 

"  I  can  hardly  express  to  you  the  pain,  and,  I  must  add. 
the  surprise,  with  which  I  received  the  objections  to  iiooil 
^Yords  which  it  contains,  from  one  for  whose  character 
and  culture  I  entertain  such  high  respect.  Perhaps  I  feel 
this  the  more  at  this  time,  when  I  have  been  made  the 
object  of  a  most  unrighteous  and  untruthful  attack  by  the 
Record  newsjjaper.  ...  I  would  feel  pained  to  dis- 
cover even  a  shadow  of  such  a  publication  fulling  for  a 
moment  over  any  portion  of  the  Evangelical  Church  in 
Scotland. 

"  Certain  criticisms  in  the  last  meeting  of  the  Free 
Church  Assembly  make  me  write  thus,  although  I  do 
not  mean  to  take  further  notice  of  that  popular  demon- 
stration. 

"  But  let  me  endeavour  to  obviate,  or  at  least  modify, 
the  difficulties  which  you  are  pleased  so  kindly  to  express 
in  your  letter  regarding  Good  Words. 

"  There  is,  first  of  all,  the  olyection  which  you  call  the 
Sabbath  reading  question.  You  fear,  as  I  understand  it, 
that  young  persons  may  be  tempted  to  read  the  '  secular  ' 
articles  of  Good  Words  on  Sunday,  and  that  '  the  fine  tone' 
which  we  have  so  long  associated,  and,  very  properly,  with 
Sabbath  reading  may  thereby  be  deteriorated.  Now,  Good 
Wo7'ds  is  not  specially  intended,  as  too  many  Christian 
periodicals,  I  think  are,  to  furnish  nourishment  for  the 
young  chiefly,  but  rather  to  give  solid  meat  for  intelligent 
men  and  women.  But  if  any  members  of  a  Christian 
family  are  compelled  to  endure  such  severe  and  dry  ex- 
ercises on  the  Sunday  as  would  make  them  long  for  even 
the  scientific  articles  in  Good  Words,  or,  what  is  still  more 
common,  if  they  are  so  ill-trained  as  to  read  what  parental 
authority  has  forbidden,  let  me  ask,  in  such  a  case,  why  not 
lock  up  Good  Wonis  ?  The  poorest  family  have  generally 
a  press,  or  a  chest  of  drawers,  where  this  mechanical  pro- 
cess can  be  achieved.  It  surely  must  be  acknowledged 
that  the  periodical,  so  far  as  its  mere  '  secular  '  clement  is 
concerned,  may  be  admitted  as  a  respectable  and  worthy 


i862 — 63.  141 

visitor  of  a  Christian  family  on  at  least  six  days  of  t]ui 
^veek  ?  If  so,  why  not  take  the  visitor  hy  the  thruat,  say 
at  11.55  on  Saturday  night,  just  at  the  moment  when  he 
is  being  transformed  into  the  character  of  a  danger  jus  in- 
truder, and  then  incarcerate  him  till  he  becomes  once  more 
respectable  at  12.5  on  Monday  morning?  Or,  if  it  is 
found  that  the  villain  may  escape  on  Sunday,  that  John 
and  James  have  become  so  attached  to  him  that  they  are 
disposed  to  pick  the  lock  of  his  prison  and  let  him  out, 
might  it  not  be  prudent,  in  such  a  case,  to  adopt  the  old 
orthodox  Popish  fashion  of  burning  him  as  a  heretic  ? — 
with  the  condition  only,  for  the  great  advantage  of  the 
publishers,  that  a  new  copy  shall  be  purchased  every  Mon- 
day morning  !  Even  in  this  case,  and  in  spite  of  all  those 
holocausts.  Good  Words  would  still  be  '  worth  much  and 
cost  little.'  But  then,  my  dear ,  you  must  con- 
sider how  to  dispose  of  all  your  other  secular  literature 
upon  the  first  day  of  the  week.  What  of  your  other  secu- 
lar books  and  'secular'  periodicals?  and,  what  is  a  still 
more  difficult  question,  how  are  you  to  dispose  of  all  your 
secular  conversation,  if  science  be  secular  ?  What,  for 
example,  are  you  to  do  with  the  secular  sun,  moon,  and 
stars  ?  Are  you  to  look  at  them  ?  If  you  do  so,  are  you 
to  think  about  them  ?  If  you  think  about  them,  are  you 
to  speak  about  them  ?  If  you  speak  about  them,  are  you 
to  do  so  scientifically — that  is,  according  to  truth  ?  For,  if 
so,  you  thereby  immediately  tread  upon  dangerous  ground. 
You  may  be  led  into  a  talk  on  Astronomy,  and  may  thus 

become  as  bad  as  Professor ,  who,  as  you  inform  me. 

declared  from  the  chair  of  the  Royal  Society  that  he  had 
read  an  article  on  Astronomy  in  Good  Words  on  a  Sunday 
evening.  Your  theory  carried  to  this  extent  is  hard  to 
practise  in  consistency  with  the  most  holy  idea  of  the 
Sunday.  But  that  is  not  my  look-out.  'Let  each  man 
be  fully  persuaded  in  his  own  mind.' — '  To  him  that 
esteemeth  anything  to  be  unclean  to  him  it  is  unclean.'  It 
is  enough  for  my  defence  that  lock  and  key  can  enable  any 
man  to  dispose  of  Good  Words,  if  he  finds  his  family- 
tempted,  from  want  of  principle  or  self-control,  to  read 
some  of  those  articles  which,  I  admit,  are  not  intended  for 


14  2  L IFE  OF  NORMA  N  MA  CLEOD. 

the  Sunday,  but  for  the  other  days  of  the  week.  Pray,  my 
friend,  do  not  suppose  that  I  am  speaking  lightly  of  the 
Sunday,  or  of  its  becoming  exercises,  I  will  yield  to  no 
man  living  in  my  profound  thankfulness  for  the  Lord's 
Day  and  all  its  sacred  influences  :  nor  do  I  wish,  God  for- 
bid !  to  weaken  them,  but  to  strengthen  them.  I  am 
merely  indulging  in  a  little  banter  with  reference  to  what 
appears  to  me  to  be  a  wrong  application  of  principles,  on 
which  we  all  agree,  to  the  condemnation  of  Good  ITo^-c/.s. 

"  As  to  the  objection  about  the  mixture  of  secular  and 
sacred  in  Good  Words,  which  is  involved  in  'the  Sabl)ath 
reading  question,'  what  can  I  say  ?  Ought  I  to  leave  out 
the  sacred  ?  Would  the  magazine  thereby  become  more 
Christian  ?  You  seem  to  object  to  its  title,  as  a  magnzine 
for  all  the  week.  Will  it  become  good  if  I  leave  out  tliat 
title,  or  construct  another,  suggesting  that  it  is  a  magazine 
for  all  the  week  except  the  Sunday?  Would  either  this 
change  in  its  title,  or  the  withdrawal  of  its  '  religious  '  con- 
tents make  it  really  more  religious,  and,  therefore,  more 
worthy  of  the  support  of  Evangelical  men?  1  have  no 
sympathy  with  these  objections.  Either  of  us  must  have 
a  way  of  looking  at  the  matter  which  the  other  cannot 
understand. 

"  Your  other  objection  is  worthy,  however,  of  a  more 
lengthened  and  serious  reply.  I  quite  sympathize  with 
those  who  may  urge  it  : — I  mean  the  fact  of  writers  be- 
longing to  diti'erent  schools  in  theology,  and  ditierent 
departments  in  literature,  such  as  Mr.  Trollope,  Professor 
Kingsley,  and  Dr.  Stanley,  writing  in  the  same  journal 
with  other  men  of  acknowledged  '  Evangelical '  sentiments. 
Now,  Avhether  the  2:»lan  or  idea  be  right  or  wrong,  of  a 
religious  magazine  which  shall  include  among  its  writers 
men  of  all  parties  and  Churches,  or  occupying  ditierent 
walks  in  literature,  I  beg  to  assure  you  that  I  alone  am 
responsible  for  it.  It  was  not  suggested  to  me  by  the 
publishers  or  by  others,  but  was  made  a  condition  by 
myself  before  acce})ting  the  editorship  of  the  magazine. 
Moreover,  I  can  very  sincerely  say,  that  it  was  not  con- 
ceived or  adopted  without  most  grave,  mature,  and  prayer- 
ful consideration.      I  say  prayerful,  not  as  a  mere  phrase, 


i862 — 63.  143 

but  as  expressing  a  real  fact.  I  admit  also  that  I  have 
been  from  the  first  alive  to  the  possible  oti'ence  this  plan 
might  give  to  some  good  and  thoroughly  sincere  men  who 
had  been  accustomed  to  associate  with  what  was  called 
'  Evangelical  literature,'  a  different  and  narrower  idea. 

"...  I  believed,  that  if  our  cheap  religious  publica- 
tions were  to  exercise  real  influence  upon  our  intelligent 
mechanics,  much  more  upon  that  immense  mass  which 
occupies  the  middle  ground  between  the  '  Becordite ' 
Church  part}''  on  the  one  side,  and  the  indifferent  and 
sceptical  on  the  other,  popular  Christian  periodical  litera- 
ture must  be  made,  within,  of  course,  certain  limits,  much 
wider,  truer,  more  manly,  and  more  human — i.e.,  more 
really  Christian  in  its  sympathies  than  it  had  hilherto 
been.  With  these  convictions  naturally  and  soberly 
formed,  I  resolved  to  make  the  experiment  and  to  face  all 
its  difficulties. 

"...  j\Iy  rule  has  been  to  obtain  assistance  from 
the  best  men  in  every  church  and  party  I  can  find  able 
and  wilhng  to  write  for  me  on  such  subjects  as  all  men 
may  read  with  interest  or  with  profit.  This  rule  is 
limited  by  one  principle  only,  which  has  ever  guided, 
me,  and  that  is,  never  to  accept  the  contributions  of  any 
writer,  male  or  female,  however  talented,  who  is  known  to 
be  anti-Christian  in  creed  or  life.  No  infidel,  no  immoral 
man  or  woman,  no  one  whom  I  could  not  receive,  in 
so  far  as  character  is  concerned,  into  my  family,  will 
ever  be  permitted  to  write  in  the  pages  of  Oood  Words. 
Nay  more,  what  they  write  must  be  in  harmony  at  least 
with  the  essentials  of  the  Christian  faith,  and  with  its 
morals.  But,  short  of  this,  I  hold  that  he  who  is  not 
against  Christ  is  for  Him — for  Him  more  especially 
when  the  author,  whoever  he  be,  is  willing  to  write  side 
by  side  with  men  who  preach  the  Gospel  out-and-out. 
And,  therefore,  I  have  no  hesitation  in  saying  to  you,  that 
I  believe  every  person  who  has  written  m  Good  Words 
publicly  professes  his  faith  in  Jesus  Christ,  and  maintains 
a  character  not  inconsistent  with  that  profession. 

"  As  to  the  fear  you  express  of  persons  being  thus  in- 
duced  to   read  Kingsh-y  or  Stanley,  no  person,  I  believe, 


1+4  LIFE  OF  XORMAX  MACLEOD. 

who  lias  not  road  tlicm  already,  will  be  inclined  to  do  so 
merely  l>y  reading  Good  Wordx.  But  1  pri'sume  that 
most  people  who  read  general  literature  are  already 
acquainted  with  their  writings.  Yet  I  begin  to  think  that 
these  are  condemned  by  many  who  have  never  read  them, 
but  have  received  from  others,  eipially  ignorant,  a  vague 
impression  of  something  horrible  about  them,  they  know 
not  what.  I  am  not  aware  of  anything  they  have  ever 
written  which  should  necessitate  their  being  excommuni- 
cated from  the  pages  of  Christian  periodical  literature. 
Anyhow,  I  have  little  faith  in  an  Index  Expurgatorius 
being  wise  or  efficient  among  people  of  ordinary  education 
and  intelligence.  For  once  that  it  makes  a  young  man 
pious,  in  a  hundred  cases  it  makes  him  either  ignorant, 
false,  or  sceptical.  To  know  both  sides  is,  I  think,  the 
only  safeguard  for  men  who  may  feel  called  upon  to  study 
the  present  phases  of  religious  thought.  Good  Words, 
how^ever,  gives  them  but  the  good  side. 

"  What  then  has  been  the  practical  result  of  my  editorial 
plan  ?  It  is  this  :  that  I  defy  any  man  to  select  a  number 
in  which  there  lias  not  been  again  and  again  repeated  a 
full  statement  of  Gospel  truth,  and  that  too  without  any 
one  article,  or  even  any  passage  in  any  number  contra- 
dicting it,  but  every  article  being,  at  least,  in  harmony  with 
it.  No  doubt  you  may  pick  out  here  and  there  once  in  a  year, 
and  out  of  a  hundred  articles,  some  sentence  which  may 
have  crept  in  through  inadvertency,  and  which  might  have 
been,  perhaps,  better  left  out.  And  in  a  few  articles  also 
of  a  more  strictly  religious  character  there  may  be  the 
omission  of  doctrines  which  we  might  wish  had  been  in, 
or  more  fully  stated.  But  the  Magazine  must  be  judged  of 
as  a  whole,  and  by  the  general  tendency  of  all  its  articles, 
and  the  impressions  which  it  is  likely  to  make  upon  any 
truthful,  honest,  fair  man.  Let  me  say  it  with  all  rever- 
ence, that  there  are  books  and  epistles  in  the  Scriptures 
themselves  which  could  be  proved  defective,  doubtful,  and 
liable  to  be  misunderstood,  if  the  same  principles  of  carping 
Colenso  criticism  are  applied  to  them  as  those  which  have 
been  applied  by  the  Record  to  Good.  Words. 

"...   I  nuist  presume  that  you,  my  dear  Sir,  are  neither 


i862 — 63.  14s 

acquainted  personally  with  Kingsley  nor  Stanley,  and  that 
you  have  not  read  their  works  with  care.  Writing  hur- 
riedly, as  you  have  done,  you  may  have  accepted  without  ■ 
mature  reliection  the  applicatiou  of  the  verses  from  2  Cor. 
vi.  15,  16,  first  suggested  by  the  Record.  But  were  I,  who 
have  the  honour  and  privilege  of  knowing  these  men — while 
differing,  as  I  have  said,  very  decidedly  from  many  of 
their  views — to  indulge  such  a  thought  regarding  our 
relative  position,  I  should  loathe  myself  as  a  Pharisee  of 
the  Pharisees,  and  despise  myself  as  the  meanest  hypo- 
crite on  earth.  I  have  great  personal  respect  for  the 
characters  of  Trollope,  Kingsley,  and  Stanley,  as  well  as 
admiration  of  their  genius,  though  they  occupy  very 
different  walks  in  literature.  I  have  the  privilege  of 
knowing  Dr.  Stanley  more  intimately  than  the  others,  and 
I  am  glad  to  have  even  this  o[)portunity  of  expressing  to 
you  my  profound  conviction  that  he  has  a  fear  of  God,  a 
love  for  Christ  and  for  his  fellow-men,  a  sense  of  honour, 
truth,  and  justice,  such  as  I  should  rejoice  to  believe  were 
even  seriously  aimed  at  by  the  conductors  of  the  Record. 
The  passage  you  hastily  apply  to  such  a  man  as  Stanley 
— I  feel  assured,  without  the  full  meaning  I  attach  to  it 
— was,  nevertheless,  coolly  written  and  printed  in  the 
Record,  and  applied  also  to  myself,  Lee,  Tulloch,  Caird, 
and  has  been  transferred  to  the  separate  publication 
of  its  so-called  criticisms  on  Good  Words.  As  to  the 
application  of  the  more  harmless  and  peaceful  image  from 
Deuteronomy  Avhich  you  quote  : — '  Thou  shalt  not  plough 
with  an  ox  and  an  ass  together,'  I  shall,  with  confidence, 
leave  your  own  good  taste  to  make  it,  if  you  can  suppose 
Arthur  Stanley  and  the  'Chelsea  Pensioner'  writing  together 
in  Good  Words. 

"...  But  whatever  may  become  of  Good  Words,  I 
am  grieved  to  see  the  tendency,  on  the  part  of  some  good 
men  in  the  Evangelical  Church,  to  cast  away  from  their 
heart  and  sympathies  in  such  a  crisis  as  the  present,  the 
cordial  aid  which  men  must  devoted  to  Christ  and  His 
kingdom  are  willing  to  afford  to  ihe  cause  which  all  have 
at  heart,  the  very  moment  they  refuse  in  some  one  point, 
to  shape  their  plans,  or  even  their  phrases,  to  the  stereo- 

VOL.    II.  L 


146  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

typed  form  Avhicli  some  small  party  have  sanctioned,  as 
being  the  only  tyjie  of  '  evangelicism.'  They  are  too  ajjt 
to  be  governed  by  the  mere  letter  and  words,  instead  of 
looking  into  the  spirit  and  realities  of  things,  and  thus 
unconsciously  accept  the  "well-known  advice  given  in  Faust 
to  a  student  by  one  whom  I  need  not  name,  but  who  is, 
I  suspect,  not  ignorant  of  many  of  the  private  conspiracies 
against  good  men  in  the  office  of  the  Record. 

*Im  ganzen — haJtet  ench  an  Worfe  ! 

iJaun  geht  ihr  (lurch  die  sichre  Pibrte 

Zum  Tempel  der  Gewissheit  ein.'     .... 
***** 

•  Mit  Worten  lasst  sich  trefflich  streiten, 
Mit  Worten  ein  System  bereiten, 
An  Worte  lasst  sich  treffliah  glauben, 
Von  einem  Wort  lasst  sicli  keiu  Iota  rauben.* 

"  With  a  good  conscience  towards  God  and  man,  I  there- 
fore crave  as  a  Christian  brother  pastor,  seeking  to  aid  his 
Master's  work,  the  sympathy  of  the  good  men  of  all  parties, 
and  of  all  churches — for  Good  Words  belongs  to  all.  If 
this  is  denied  me,  by  even  a  few,  on  those  few  be  the  respon- 
sibility of  weakening  my  hands  and  my  efforts.  Profoundly 
convinced,  however,  of  a  higher  sympathy,  I  shall  go  on  as 
I  have  begun,  with  a  firm,  clear  purpose,  and  a  peaceful, 
courageous  heart.  As  I  have  sung  long  ago,  I  sing  now, 
and  hope  to  do  so  till  my  voice  is  silent — 

*  Trust  no  party,  church,  or  faction, 

Trust  no  leaders  in  the  fight ; 
But  in  every  word  and  action, 
Trust  in  God,  and  do  the  right  I 

•  Some  will  hate  thee,  some  will  love  thee, 

Some  will  flatter,  some  will  slight. 

Cease  from  man,  and  look  above  theo, 

Trust  iu  God,  and  do  the  right ! ' " 


To  the  Eev.  W.  F.  Stevensdii  : — 

"  I  had  a  most  delightful  visit  to  Dublin. 
"  What  I  saw  of  efforts  to  convert  Romanists   has  left 
that  problem  darker  than  ever.      Whatever  is  right,  those 


1 862 — 63. 


H7 


controversial  meetings — if  the  one  I  was  present  at  was 
a  tair  specimen— ^are  an  abomination.      '  Ach !  luas  fur  ein 

skandal ! ' 

"  I  have  written  a  h.>ng  letter  in  reply  to  Professor , 

I  think  you  will  a})prove  of  it. 


"  My  first  edition  was — 

"  My  second  was — 

"  My  third  is — 

"  And  so  I  am  more  at  ease. 


"I  feel  the  importance  of  this  discussion.  It  will  be  a 
blessino:  if  we  o^ive  freedom  to  Christian  literature,  and 
yet  keep  it  within  holy  ground.  It  will  be  a  blessing 
too,  if  we  can  make  good  men  see  their  way  to  more  tolera- 
tion and  largeness  of  sympathy." 

From  the  Eev.  A.  P.  Stanley,  Professor  of  Ecclesiastical  History  :— 
Christ  Church,  Oxford,  June  13,  1863. 
"For  my  part    I    would    at  once   relieve  you   of    my 
presence    in    Good    Words,  but  I  consider    the    principle 

L  2 


148  LIFE.  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

vhich  you  advocate  in  your  letter  to  be  so  good,  that  I 
shall  be  sorry  to  do  so.  'The  ox  and  ass'  must  j)loiigh 
together  in  the  Christian  dispensation,  though  they  were 
forbidden  to  do  so  in  the  Mosaic." 


From  the  lato  Canon  KiNGSLEY  : — 

Cambridge,  f>fitiirdaij  night. 

"  I  have  sent  oft'  my  copy.  If  anything  in  it  seems  to 
you  not  fit  for  your  readers,  you  are  to  strike  your  pen 
throui'h  it  Avithout  fear. 

"  I  can  trust  utterly  your  liberality  and  good  sense.  I 
am  old  enouiyh  to  know,  with  Hesiod,  that  half  is  some- 
times  better  than  the  whole.  I  have  full  means  in  Eng- 
land of  speaking  my  whole  mind  as  often  as  I  wish.  It 
is  for  you  to  decide  how  much  thereof  can  be  spoken  with- 
out oftence  to  your  70,000  readers.  So  do  what  you  like 
with  the  paper. 

"  I  should  say  this  to  very  few  editors  upon  earth,  but  I 
say  it  to  you  as  a  matter  of  course." 

To  A.  Strahan,  Esq.  :— 

"  Let  us  be  very  careful,  not  to  admit  through  over- 
sight one  sentence  which  ought  to  pain  a  Christian,  how- 
ever weak  he  may  be.  In  one  word,  let  us  honestly, 
sincerely,  humbly,  truthfully  do  what  is  right,  and  dare 
the  devil  whether  he  comes  as  an  infidel  or  a  Pharisee. 

•'  We  have  an  immense  talent  given  us,  let  us  use  it 
well. 

"  I  have  no  doubt  Good  Words  will  be  injured,  but  it 
will  perish  before  I  truckle  to  any  party." 

To  the  Same  : — 

"  I  have  read  Number  1  of  the  Record;  but  the  louder 
the  wind  pipes,  and  the  gurlier  the  sea  gets  from  that 
quarter,  the  more  calm,  steadfast  I  feel  to  steer  right  on 
by  the  compass  of  a  good  conscience,  by  the  old  chart,  the 
Bible. 


i86z — 63.  149 

"  Thank  God  I  have  you  as  my  first  mate,  and  not  some 
Quaker.  I  know  you  won't  flinch  in  a  gale  of  wind,  nor 
will  I,  take  my  word  for  it ! 

"  I  don't  mean  to  take  any  notice  nt  present,  although 
I  would  like  to  speak  out  on  the  whole  subject  of  religious 
periodical  literature  as  it  was  and  is — what  is  good  in  it  and 
what  is  bad,  what  its  duties  are  and  its  shortcomings.  I 
think  this  will  do  nuich  good  to  the  religious  atmosphere.  It 
is  very  close  at  present.  In  the  ^meantime  I  shall  act  on 
my  old  motto,  '  Trust  in  God  and  do  the  right.'  '* 

In  the  same  year  in  which  he  was  attacked  by  the 
Record^  he  had  an  opportunity  of  showing  how  little 
ground  there  was  for  the  most  serious  of  the  charges 
brought  against  him  as  editor.  He  had  asked  a 
celebrated  novelist,  a  personal  friend,  for  whose 
character  and  opinions  he  ever  retained  unqualified 
respect,  to  write  the  tale  for  the  following  year. 
But,  when  the  story  was  submitted  to  him,  he  saw 
that  it  was  not  suitable  for  the  Magazine.  There 
was,  of  course,  nothing  morally  wrong  in  its  tone, 
but  as  all  its  '  religious  '  people  were  drawn  of  a  type 
which  justly  deserved  the  lash  of  the  satirist,  he  felt 
that  to  publish  it  in  Good  Words  would  be  to  lend 
the  sanction  of  its  conductors  to  what  he  had  long 
considered  the  injustice  of  modern  novelists  in  ignor- 
ing healthy  Christianity.  A  friendly  correspondence 
followed,*  from  which  it  appeared  that  the  editor 
and  his  friend  had  misunderstood  each  other ;  but 
so  determined  was  Dr.  Macleod  and  his  publishers 
not  to  compromise  the  character  of  Good  Words,  that 
the  forfeit  of  £500  was  paid  and  the  story  declined. 

*  The  novelist  "who  is  referred  to  above  thus  writes : — "  I  need  not 
say  that  Dr.  Macleod's  rejection  of  the  story  never  for  a  moment 
interfered  with  our  friendship.     It  certainly  raised  my  opinion  of  the 


150  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

To :_ 

"  N.B. — This  letter  ^\ill  keep  cold  till  you  are  at  peace 
with  all  the  world,  with  a  pipe  well  filled,  and  drawing 
well.      Read  it  then,  or  a  bit  each  day  for  a  month. 

Glasgow,  June  11,  1863. 

"...  You  are  not  wrong  ;  nor  have  you  wronged 
rnc  or  my  publishers  in  any  way.  I  frankly  admit  tliis. 
]>ut  neither  am  I  wrong.  This,  *  by  your  leave,'  I  assert. 
The  fact  is  that  I  misunderstood  you  and  you  me,  though 
\  more  than  you  have  been  the  cause  of  the  misunder- 
staiiding. 

"  What  I  tried  to  explain  and  Avished  you  to  see  when 
we  met  here  was,  the  peculiar  place  which  Good  WonU 
aimed  at  occupying  in  the  field  of  cheap  Christian  litera- 
ture. I  have  always  endeavoured  to  avoid,  on  the  one 
hand,  the  exclusivel}''  narrow  religious  ground — narrow  in 
its  choice  of  subjects  and  in  its  manner  of  treating  them 
— hitherto  occupied  by  our  religious  periodicals  ;  and,  on 
the  other  hand,  to  avoid  altogether  whatever  was  anta- 
gonistic to  the  truths  and  spirit  of  Christianity,  and  also 
as  much  as  possible  whatever  was  calculated  to  offend  the 
prejudices,  far  more  the  sincere  convictions  and  feelings, 
of  fair  and  reasonable  '  Evangelical '  men.  Within  these 
extremes  it  seemed  to  me  that  a  sufficiently  extensive  field 
existed,  in  which  any  novelist  migb.t  roam  and  find  an 
endless  variety  of  life  and  manners  to  describe  Avith  profit 
to  all,  and  without  giving  offence  to  any.  This  j)roblem 
which  I  wished  to  solve  did  not  and  does  not  seem  to  me 
a  very  difficult  one,  unless  for  very  one-sided  '  Evangelical ' 
or  anti-'  Evangelical '  writers.  At  all  events,  being  a  clergy- 
man as  well  as  an  editor — the  one  from  deepest  convic- 
tions, though  the  other,  I  fear,  is  from  the  deepest  mis- 
take— I  could  not  be  else  than  sensitive  lest  anything  should 
appear  in  Good  Words  out  of  harmony  with  my  convic- 
tions and  my  profession.  Well,  then,  was  I  wrong  in 
assuming  that  you  were  an  honest  believer  in  revealed 
Christian  truth  ?  I  was  not.  Was  I  wrong  in  believing 
and  hoping  that  there  Avere  many  truly  Christian  aspects 
of  life,  as   well    as   the   canting  and    hiunhvg  ones,  with 


i8t)2 — -b^.  15! 

which  yon  heartily  sympathized,  and  which  you  were  able 
and  disposed  to  delineate  ?      I  was  not. 

"  Perhaps  I  had  no  ground  for  hoping  that  you  would 
[;ive  me  a  dift'erent  kind  of  story  from  those  you  had 
hitherto  pubHshed.  If  so,  forgive  me  this  wrong.  Pos- 
sibly the  wish  was  father  to  the  thought.  But  the 
thought  did  not  imply  that  any  of  your  former  novels  had 
been  false  either  to  your  own  world  within  or  to  the  big 
world  without — false  to  truth  or  to  nature.  It  assumed 
only  that  you  could  with  your  whole  heart  produce  another 
novel  which,  instead  of  showing  up  what  was  weak,  false, 
disgusting  in  professing  Christians,  might  also  bring  out, 
as  has  never  yet  been  done,  what  Christianity  as  a  living 
power  derived  from  faith  in  a  living  Saviour,  and  working 
in  and  through  living  men  and  women,  does,  has  done,  and 
will  do,  what  no  other  known  power  can  accomplisli  in 
the  world,  for  the  good  of  the  individual  or  mankind.  If 
no  sucli  power  exists,  neither  Christ  nor  Christianity  exists  ; 
and  if  it  does,  I  must  confess  that  most  of  our  great 
novelists  are,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  marvellously  modest  in 
acknowledging  it.  The  weaknesses,  snares,  hypocrisies, 
gloom  of  some  species  of  professing  Christians  are  all 
described  and  magnitied  ;  but  what  of  the  genuine, 
heaven-born  Christian  element  ?  Why,  when  one  reads  oi 
the  good  men  in  most  novels,  it  can  hardly  be  discovered 
where  they  got  their  goodness  ;  but  let  a  parson,  a  deacon, 
a  Church  member  be  introduced,  and  at  once  we  guess 
where  they  have  had  their  badness  from — they  were  pro- 
fessing Christians, 

"  Now  all  this,  and  much  more,  was  the  substance  of 
my  sermon  to  you. 

"  Now,   my  good  ,  you  have  been  in  my  humble 

opinion  guilty  of  committing  this  fault,  or,  as  you  might 
say,  praiseworthy  in  doing  this  good,  in  your  story.  You 
hit  right  and  left ;  give  a  wipe  here,  a  sneer  there,  and 
thrust  a  nasty  prong  into  another  place  ;  cast  a  gloom  over 
Dorcas  societies,  and  a  glory  over  balls  lasting  till  four  in  the 
morning.  In  short,  it  is  the  old  story.  The  shadow  over 
the  Church  is  broad  and  deep,  and  over  every  other  spot 
sunshine  reigns.      That  is   the  general  impression   which 


IS*  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

the  story  gives,  so  far  as  it  goes.  There  is  nothing,  of 
course,  bad  or  vicious  in  it — that  could  not  he  from  you 
— but  (piite  enough,  and  that  without  any  necessity  from 
your  licid  or  heart,  to  keep  Good  Words  and  its  editoi 
in  boiling  water  until  either  or  both  were  boiled  to  death. 
I  feel  i)retty  certain  that  you  either  do  not  comprehend 
my  difficulties,  or  laugh  in  pity  at  my  bigotry.  Uut  I 
cannot  help  it. 

"  You  do  me,  however,  wrong  in  thinking,  as  you  seem 
to  do,  that  apart  from  the  structure  of  your  story,  and 
merely  because  of  your  name,  I  have  sacrificed  you  to  the 
Record,  and  to  the  cry  it  and  its  followers  have  raised 
against  you  as  well  as  against  me.  My  only  j>ain  is  that 
the  Record  will  suppose  that  its  attack  has  bullied  me 
into  the  rejection  of  your  story. 

"  I  know  well  that  my  position  is  difficult,  and  that 
too  because  I  do  not  write  to  please  both  parties,  but 
simply  because  I  wish  to  produce,  if  possible,  a  magazine 
which,  though  too  wide  for  the  '  Evangelicals '  and  too 
narrow  for  the  anti-'  Evangelicals,'  and  therefore  disliked  by 
both  cliques,  may  nevertheless  rally  round  it  in  the  long  run 
the  sympathies  of  all  who  occupy  the  middle  ground  of  a 
decided,  sincere,  and  manly  Evangelical  Christianity." 


To  J.  M.  Ludlow,  Esq. : — 

"  I  really  cannot  ascertain  anything  reliable  about  the 
election  of  librarian. 

"  In  summer  the  College  is  dead,  the  professors  fled 
— no  one  but  Avaiters  or  seagulls  know  whither.  For  aught 
I  know,  the  books  are  off  too,  to  wash  their  bindings, 
or  to  purge  themselves  of  their  errors.  The  very  porters 
have  vanished,  or  locked  themselves  up.  I  believe  the 
animals  in  the  museum  are  gone  to  their  native  haunts. 
The  clock  is  stopped.  The  spiders  have  grown  to  a 
fearful  size  in  the  class-rooms.  Hebrew  roots  have 
developed  into  trees  ;  divinity  has  perished.  Who  knows 
your  friend  in  that  desert  ?  I  went  to  inquire  about  him, 
and  fled  in  terror  from  the  srrave  of  the  dead  sciences." 


i862 — 63.  153 

The  letter  which  follows  refers  to  a  bereavement 
which  had  overtaken  his  nncle,  the  minister  of 
Morven,  and  which  had  left  him  peculiarly  desolate 
and  lonely  in  the  old  home  of  Fiunary.  Norman  was 
preparing  for  a  short  tour  on  the  Continent  when 
the  sad  news  reached  him.  He  at  once  gave  up  his 
promised  holiday  abroad  and  went  to  Morven. 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

FiUNAET,  June  27,  1863. 

"  It  is  blowing  and  raining  outside,  the  Sound  looks 
cold  and  dreary,  and  within  there  is  a  dead  wife  and  a 
husband  who  would  rejoice  if  he  were  laid  beside  her, 

"  Everything  here  seems  dead — the  hills,  rocks,  and 
sea — all  are  but  things  ;  the  persons  who  were  their  life 
have  gone,  and  there  are  few  even  to  speak  of  the  old 
familiar  faces.  Verily  a  man's  life  can  be  found  in  God 
only.  Peace  we  can  have — it  must  be  ;  happiness 
may  be." 

"  Monday,  Qth  July. — Yesterday  was  a  holy  day.  With- 
out it  was  one  of  surpassing  splendour  ;  within,  of  holy 
peace.  I  preached.  There  was  a  large  congregation  of 
the  living,  but  almost  as  large  of  the  dead,  or  rather  the 
Church  above  and  below  were  visibly  present  to  my  spirit, 
so  that  we  verily  seemed,  '  whether  alive  or  asleep,  to  live 
together-  v.itli  Him,'  and  to  be  all  partrking  the  com- 
munion of  His  Body  and  Blood — eating  of  the  living 
Bread.  The  old  Manse  family — father,  grandfather  and 
grandmother,  aunts  and  uncles,  down  to  dear  Margaret — • 
seemed  to  be  all  present,  and  I  never  enjoyed  more  peace, 
and  never  was  my  heart  so  full. 

"  The  scene  in  the  churchyard  was  perfect,  as  I  sat  at 
the  old  cross  and  gazed  on  the  sea,  calm  as  the  sea  of 
glass,  with  scattered  sails  and  blue  hills,  and  the  silence 
broken  by  no  footfall  on  the  green  grass,  but  by  the 
distant  voice  of  the  preacher  or  the  sound  of  psalms ; 
with  the  lark  overhead  singing  in  joy,  or  the  lambs 
bleating  among  the  hills,  or  the  passing  hum  of  the  bee, 


154  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

busy  and  contented.  Life  was  over  all,  and  in  ^pite  of 
death,  I  think  a  breath  of  God's  own  life  revived  dear 
John's  heart. 

"  I  send  you  a  number  of  the  Christian  Observer  on 
Good  Words. 

*'  It  is  loo  kind  to  me.  I  thank  God  it  has  lifted  ofl' 
the  burthen  of  dislike  I  was  beginning  to  feel  to  the 
•  Evangelical '  party  in  England,  as  if  there  was  no  justice, 
mercy,  or  truth  in  them.  The  Record,  I  see,  does  but 
misrepresent  them  all. 

"  I  feel  deeply  the  kind  advice  he  gives,  and  sympa- 
thize, as  you  know,  with  it.  They  don't  know  how  I 
liave  fought  *  the  world  '  for  the  Church,  and  what  I 
liave  kept  out.      But  I  accept  with  thanks  the  caution. 

"  May  God  help  me  to  know  and  do  His  will,  and  to 
have  kind  thoughts  of  all  men." 

From,  his  Journal  : — 

"  Early  in  October  I  went  to  fulfil  engagements  in  Eng- 
land. Preached  in  Liverpool,  London,  Stockport,  and 
Ashton,  and  collected  for  the  different  objects,  in  all, 
£1,087.  Spent  a  day  at  Bolton  Abbey — a  glorious  day, — 
delighted  with  the  scenery,  and  made  glad  by  human  kind- 
ness. 

"  ^Ir. ,    M.P.    for   ,    was    angry   because    I 

preached  for  Nonconformists  !  The  Church  of  England 
won't  let  me  preach  in  her  pulpits,  and  out  of  respect  for 
the  Church  he  thinks  I  should  preach  for  no  one  else ! 

"  I  think  it  not  only  allowable,  but  right,  in  the  Stock- 
port Sunday  schools,  to  teach  reading,  writing,  and  music 
to  the  poor,  who  are  obliged  to  Avork  all  the  week,  and 
who  can  go  nowhere  else.  What  I  object  to  is — 1,  that 
well-to-do  children  should  be  thus  taught ;  2,  that  arith- 
metic should  be  taught  on  Sunday. 

"  I  like  the  Nonconformists  for  their  liberality  ;  but 
I  am  more  and  more  convinced  that  a  country  must 
have  many  Churches  to  express  and  feed  different  minds, 
and  that  the  Establishment  is  a  huge  blessuig  along 
with  Dissent. 


i862 — 63,  155 

*'  Odoher,  Saturday. — Went  to  Balmoral — -found  Glad- 
stone had  gone.  Found  the  old  hearty  and  haj^py  friends. 
Preached  m  the  morning  on  '  Peace  not  happiness,'  and  in 
the  church  on  '  The  Gadarene  demoniac' 

"'What  do  you  think?'  said  little  Princess  Beatrice  to 
me.  '  I  am  an  aunt,  Br.  ]\[acleod,  yet  my  nephew  Willi ;im 
(of  Prussia)  won't  do  what  I  bid  him  !  Both  he  and  Eliza- 
beth refused  to  shut  the  door  !  Is  that  not  naughty  ? '  I 
never  saw  truer,  or  more  natural,  health}^  children.  God 
bless  them  ! 

"  Monday. — Lady  Augusta,  Dr.  Jenner,  and  I,  drove  to 
Garbhalt.  At  night  I  read  Burns  and  '  Old  Mortality  ' 
aloud  to  the  Court.  The  Royal  Family  were  not  present. 
General  Grey  is  quite  up  to  the  Scotch. 

"  Tuesday. — Drove  to  Aberdeen  to  the  inauguration  of 
the  Prince  Consort's  statue. 

"  Here  let  me  go  back  to  impress  on  my  memory  the 
glorious  Monday  at  the  Garbhalt.  The  day  was  delicious. 
The  river  Avas  full,  and  of  that  daik-brown,  mossy  hue 
which  forms  such  a  fine  contrast  of  colour  to  the  foam  of 
the  stream  and  the  green  banks.  The  view  of  the  woods, 
the  valley,  Invercauld,  and  the  mountains,  was  superb. 
The  forests  were  coloured  with  every  shade,  from  the 
deep  green  of  the  pines  and  firs,  to  the  golden  tints  of 
the  deciduous  trees.  IMasses  of  sombre  shadow,  broken  by 
masses  of  light,  intermingled  over  the  blown  hills  and 
broad  valley,  while  the  distant  hills  and  clouds  met  in 
glorious  confusion.  It  was  a  day  to  be  had  in  remem- 
brance. 

"  I  was  asked  Friday  fortnight  to  go  to  Inverary  to 
meet  the  Crown  Prince  and  Princess  of  Prussia,  I  did  so, 
and  returned  Saturday.      It  was  a  happy  visit. 

"  The  Monday  following  I  went  to  visit  Prince  Alfred 
at  Holyrood,  and  staid  till  Wednesday,  The  Crown 
Prince  and  Princess  there.  I  think  the  Crown  Prince  a 
simple,  frank,  unaffected,  and  affectionate  man. 

"  We  had  an  evening  party,  and  they  left  on  Tuesday 
night  at  ten. 

"  We  have  had  a  small  newspaper-letter  controversy 
about    the    EstabHshed    Church    becoming    Episcopalian. 


156  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Nonsense  !  We  must  hold  fast  by  our  o\vn  past,  and 
from  this  national  root  grow  up  in  adaptation  to  the 
necessities  of  the  times  in  all  things  non-essential,  and 
from  their  nature  variable.  But  such  a  union  is  impossi- 
ble !  The  Free  Church  speaks  of  uniting  -with  the  United 
Presbyterian.  It  will  be  a  queer  evolution  in  history, 
utterly  inexplicable  on  any  principle  save  that  of  church 
ambition. 

"  They  will  cease  to  exist  the  moment  they  join.  They 
will  have  lost  all,  the  U.  P.'s  gained  all,  and  we  much. 
Our  strength  must  be  in  the  width  of  our  sympathies — in 
our  national  mclusiveness,  not  exclusiveness. 

"  An  amusing,  silly,  yet  not  unimportant  event  has 
occurred  in  relation  to  Good  Words.  The  Free  Presbytery 
of  Strathbogie  has  overtured  the  General  Assembly  of  the 
Free  Church  against  it.  Against  a  6d  periodical,  with 
which  they  have  nothing  to  do !  This  is  to  me  very 
interesting  as  a  social  phenomenon.  Oh,  my  God,  help 
me  to  be  charitable  !  Help  me  to  be  weak  to  the  weak, 
to  be  silent  about  them,  and  to  do  Thy  Avill ! 

"■  Novemhev  27th. — Thank  God,  my  working  man's 
church  is  in  a  fair  way  of  being  finished.  I  have 
realised  £1,700,  and  I  feel  assured  God  will  give  me  the 
£2,500. 

"  We  have  taken  ground  for  a  school  and  a  church  at 
Parkhead.  All  in  faith  that  God  will  provide  the  money 
for  both. 

"  The  working  men's  services  have  been  carried  on  since 
November  1,  and  never  were  better  attended.  Thank 
God! 

"  But  I  have  been  two  years  trying  to  get  up  a  working 
man's  church.  There  are  noble  exceptions  ;  but  I  have 
found  shocking  illustrations  of  the  spirit  of  greed  among 
the  wealtl)3^ 

"  The  sun  of  life  is  setting.  Let  me  work,  and  rest  in 
soul. 

"  Thackeray  is  dead,  a  most  kind-hearted  man.  Mac- 
nab  told  me  that  he  had  him  in  charge  coming  home  from 
Calcutta,  and  that  the  day  after  he  parted  from  him  in 
London,  the  boy   rctunuMl,  and   throwing  his  arms  about 


i862 — 63.  157 

his  neck,  burst  into  tears,  from  sheer  affection  in  meeting 
his  friend  again.  He  said  he  never  knew  a  more  loving 
boy.  Thackeray  was  in  Weimar  tlie  year  before  I  was 
there.  We  had  a  long  talk  about  the  old  place  and 
people.      I  felt  he  had  a  genuine  heart. 

"  Delivered  again  my  lecture  on  East  and  West  in 
Glasgow.  I  think  God  is  giving  me  a  great  work  to  do 
in  Glasgow  for  the  poor.  It  must  and  will  be  done  by 
some  one,  why  not  me  ?  I  am  nothing  except  as  an 
instrument,  nnd  God  can  make  use  of  me. 

"D.V.,  let  this  be  my  work  for  '64i." 


CHAPTER  XVIL 

1864—65. 

HE  has  given  in  '  Eastward'  so  full  an  account  of 
his  visit  to  Palestine  that  it  would  be  super- 
fluous to  quote  at  any  length  from  the  letters  he  sent 
to  his  family.  He  was  accompanied  on  this  tour 
by  Mr.  Strahan,  his  publisher,  and  by  his  brother 
Donald  ;  and  from  first  to  last  it  afforded  him 
un mingled  enjoyment.  Every  new  event,  whether 
it  were  a  cyclone  or  a  donkey-ride,  gave  him  fresh 
pleasure  ;  every  remarkable  spot,  from  Malta  to 
Constantinople,  stirred  his  enthusiasm. 

Any  one  who  has  travelled  in  Palestine  can  under- 
stand how  fatiguing  it  must  have  been  for  a  man  of 
liis  age  and  ph)8kiue  to  pass  days  in  the  saddle  in  such 
a  climate.  Yot  there  were  few  evenings  on  which 
the  encampment  was  not  made  a  scene  of  merriment 
by  his  good-natured  fun  with  the  Fellahin  or  Bedawin 
who  crowded  round  the  tents.  He  had  provided 
himself,  before  leaving  London,  with  musical  snuff- 
boxes and  firev/orks,  and  it  was  his  delight  to  hear 
the  '  MasliallahP  of  the  astonished  natives  when  music 
burst  out  in  some  unexpected  corner,  or  when  a 
rocket  whizzed  aloft  and  fell  in  a  shower  of  fire.     He 


i864 — 65.  159 

claimed  this  use  of  fireworks  as  an  original  inven- 
tion for  the  protection  of  travellers,  and  he  was  so 
confident  of  its  merits  that  he  would  not  have  been 
sorry  had  the  Bedawin  of  the  Jordan  given  him  a  fair 
opjDortunity  of  showing  the  efi'ect  on  their  valour  of 
a  discharge  of  crackers  or  a  bouquet  of  rockets. 

From  his  Journal  : — 

''February  14. — I  start  to-moiTOw  with  Donald  and 
Strahan  for  Palestine.  To  leave  my  wife  and  children  and 
parish  for  so  long  a  time  I  feel  to  be  very  solemn.  Why 
take  it  ?  I  have  a  free  conscience  towards  God — He  has 
cleared  away  every  difficulty,  so  that  I  hope,  come  what 
may,  that  it  is  His  will  that  I  go — and  that  I  am  not  de- 
ceiving myself  in  thinking  so. 

"  May  my  darling  mother  be  preserved  to  me,  and  my 
dear  brothers  and  sisters. 

"  Oh  Thou  who  hast  hitherto  led  me,  bring  me  back  in 
safety,  and  bless  this  tour  for  health  of  body  and  soul ! " 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

"...  I  cannot  convey  to  you  the  impression  which  that 
night's  exploration  of  Malta  made  upon  me.  I  associate  it 
with  Venice  and  the  Krernlin  as  the  three  sights  which 
most  surpassed  my  expectation  and  delighted  me,  though 
in  different  ways.  The  night  was  glorious  ;  I  read  a  note 
in  the  moonlight  with  the  most  perfect  ease,  and  there  was 
shed  over  every  object  a  subdued  brightness,  which,  with 
the  perfect  calm  and  silence  everywhere,  gave  the  whole 
scene  a  marvellous  beauty.  We  passed  up  steep  narrow 
streets,  the  houses  so  oriental-looking,  with  flat  roofs  and 
every  variety  of  balcony — quite  Moorish.  We  stood  before 
the  palace  and  church  of  the  old  knights,  and  could  dis- 
tinguish every  tracery  of  the  Saracenic  architecture,  which 
all  seemed  as  if  erected  yesterday.  We  reached  at  last  the 
Barrocca,  where  there  is  a  famous  view  of  the  great  harbour, 
and  were  admitted  into  the  battery  through  the  favour  of 


i6o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

the  ijnnner.  Wc  then  gazed  down  on  t'lc  dark  water,  with 
dark  ships  of  war  asleep,  and  the  diamond  brilliant  iij^dits 
of  boats  skimming  along,  from  which  a  Maltese  song 
was  heard  from  the  boatmen,  every  note  ringing  through 
the  elastic  air.  Batteries,  batteries  everywhere ;  huge 
white  walls  of  solid  rock,  precipices  in  lines  and  angles, 
and  rampart  above  rampart,  lined  with  huge  guns  that 
looked  down  into  the  harbour  and  were  surrounded  by 
piles  of  shot  ;  endless — endless  walls  and  bastions,  that 
made  one  giddy  to  look  down,  all  gleaming  in  the  moon- 
light, with  sentinels  pacing  in  silence,  their  bayonets 
glancinsr,  and  the  En^dish  voice  alone  heard,  '  Who  goes 
there  ? '  You  can  have  no  idea  what  a  poem  it  was  !  AVe 
came  at  last  to  the  bastion  on  which  Lord  Hastings  is 
buried,  and  I  cannot  tell  you  what  I  felt  as  I  stood  beside 
his  mausoleum,  with  the  white  marlile  statue  of  a  figure 
reclining  upon  a  couch.  I  could  trace  his  features  in  the 
moonlight,  so  sweet  and  sad.  How  the  whole  scene  became 
mingled,  you  know  how,  with  my  past  life  as  connected 
with  his  widow  and  family !  I  felt  so  thankful  to  have 
seen  it. 

"  I  was  immensely  impressed  also  by  such  buildings  as 
the  Library  of  the  Knights  and  the  Palace  of  the  Grand 
Master,  now  the  Governor's  residence.  It  does  one's  heart 
good  to  be  made  to  realise  the  existence  of  men  of  taste 
and  power  like  these  knights,  whom  God  raised  up  to  judge 
Israel  and  to  defend  the  Churcfi  from  the  Philistine  Turks. 
In  Scotland  we  forget  all  that  was  here  done  by  God,  '  in 
various  times  and  divers  manners,'  for  the  good  of  the 
Church  and  of  the  world.  We  know  more  about  the 
IJurghers  and  Anti-Burghers  than  about  these  grand 
knights  v/ho  did  their  part  so  well,  but  who,  when  they 
had  done  this,  were  removed  for  something  better." 


To  his  CUILDREN  : — 

From  Jaffa. 
"  Dr.  Philip,  the  missionary,  was  waiting  for  us,  anil  had 
horses,  so  we  set  oif  to  his  farm.      It  was  a  lovely  starry 
night,    without   a   moon.      We    passed    through    lanes    of 


1864 — 65. 


i6i 


Cactus  or  prickly  pear,  in  some  places  fifteen  feet  high, 
on  every  side  orange  groves,  and  the  whole  air  filled  with 
the  croakin<j  of  frosts. 

"  This  has  been  another  delightful  day,  full  of  interest 
and  enjoyment.  This  family  is  so  nice.  There  are  four 
girls.  They  have  just  been  sitting  on  my  knee  arjd  say- 
ing, '  Oh,  do  tell  another  story.'  I  have  played  '  London 
town  '  with  them,  and  m^v&a  them  such  a  tickling^ !  I  have 
also  swallowed  the  tumbler,  and  done  all  my  tricks,  and 
let  off  a  Roman  candle  to  amuse  them. 

"  The  roof  of  the  house  is  flat,  and  I  went  up  on  it. 
What  a  view !  To  the  west  the  blue  sea,  to  the  east  the 
hills  of  Judea.  The  house  itself  is  on  the  plain  of  Sharon. 
Within  a  mile  is  Jaffa,  where  Peter  lived  with  Simon  the 
tanner,  and  had  the  vision,  and  where  he  healed  Dorcas. 
The  road  is  close  to  the  garden  along  which  he  must  have 
travelled  to  Cesarea  to  meet  the  Centurion  ;  and  to  the 
south  we  could  see  Lydda,  where  he  healed  Eneas  who  was 
sick  of  the  palsy. 

"  Our  first  encampment  was  very  picturesque.  We  had 
a  beautiful,  immense  tent  with  five  nice  iron  beds,  carpets, 
bath,  wax  candles,  and  a  superb  dinner  of  several  courses, 
Avith  dessert,  &c.  But 
for  sleep  !  The  donkeys 
braying,  horses  kicking, 
camels  groaning,  Arabs 
chatterinsf,  and  the  fleas 
and  musquitoes  biting ! 
Fatigue  alone  could  make 
us  sleep.  But  since  then 
we  sleep  famousl}^  With 
our  camels,  asses,  and 
horses  Ave  make  a  good 
appearance.  We  have 
dragoman,  cook,  servant, 
and  horsekeeper,  Avith 
camel  drivers,  Avho  sleep 
on  the  ground  beside  their 
noble  animals.  Meeki,  the  master  of  the  horses  and  asses, 
rides  in  front,  and  the  Dragoman  Hassan  rides  behind. 

VOL.    II.  M 


1 62  LIFK  OF  XORMAX  MACLI'.OD. 

"  I'lit  I  must  toll  you  of  our  first  view  of  Jenisalpra  ! 

*•  It  wjis  about  four  when  wo  reached  the  plain  before 
Gibeon,  and  saw  Neby  Samuel,  or  Mizpeh.  It  took  about 
half  an  jiour's  ri<liug  to  get  up  to  the  top  of  Mizpeh.  We 
ascended  to  the  summit  of  the  Mosque,  once  a  church,  and 
there  ! — such  a  sight  as  remains  for  life  on  the  memory. 
There  was  Jerusale.n  !   .   .   .   . 

"  The  nearness  of  these  places  struck  me.  But  the 
grand  feature,  which  took  me  quite  by  surprise,  was  the 
huge  wild  wall  of  the  Dead  Sea  mountains  glowing  red  in 
the  setting  sun — so  wild,  so  majestic  a  setting.  And  then 
all  these  towns  in  sight,  with  such  memories  !  Below  U3 
was  Gibeon  with  its  memory,  and  the  plain  at  our  feet 
where  the  battle  took  place,  and  the  steep  descent  down 
which  Joshua  drove  the  enemy,  and  then  farther  down  the 
plain  of  Philistia  and  the  sea,  Carmel  in  the  distance.  Was 
it  not  marvellous  ?  How  many  had  seen  Jerusalem  from 
this  point !  Here  Coenr  de  Lion  first  saw  it,  and  millions 
more. 

"  We  rode  into  Jerusalem  by  St.  Stephen's  Gate,  with 
Olivet  to  the  left,  Gethsemane  below.  I  took  oft'  my  hat, 
and  in  my  heart  blessed  God,  as  my  horse's  hoofs  clattered 
throuuh  the  <j-ate." 


To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

Jerxtsat.eM,  Palm  Simdfdj,  20th  March. 

"  I  went  out  this  morning  to  the  Mount  of  Olives  about 
ten  o'clock.  The  morning  was  hot  but  not  sultry.  I 
Avalked  down  the  Via  Dolorosa,  as  every  street  in  Jerusalem 
may  well  be  called,  if  filth  and  rubbish  may  be  called 
dolorous.  I  went  out  by  St.  Stephen's  Gate,  crossed  the 
Kedron,  and  ascended  Olivet  on  the  Bethany  road  until  I 
reached  the  top  where  Christ  wept  over  Jerusalem.  There 
I  paused.  The  spot  is  certain,  I  sat  there  and  read 
Mark  xiii.  (see  v.  3).  You  can  tell  within  a  few  yards 
where  He  stopped  and  gazed.  All  was  perfect  silence.  The 
birds  were  singing  among  the  olives,  the  bee  hummed 
from  flower  to  flower.  Opposite  Avas  the  city,  from 
which  no  sound  proceeded.      Yet  I  could  have  made  my 


iSb4 — 65.  163 

words  heard  by  any  one  standing  on  the  Temple  area 
There  was  a  holy  stillness  in  the  scene  quite  indescribal)lc. 
I  then  walked  slowly  over  a  part  of  Olivet  until  the  road 
above  Bethany  appeared.  It  wound  below  me.  Along  it 
that  procession  had  come  on  Palm  Sunday.  Along  it  Ho 
led  his  disciples  on  the  day  of  the  ascension,  and  lV(;ii  tiie 
point  in  sisjfht  above  the  villa<?e  He  nrobablv  ascended.  [ 
knelt  down  and  prayed  among  the  olives,  and  thanked  God 
for  all  my  marvellous  mercies,  and  commended  you  all  to 
His  care,  and  dedicated  myself  anew  to  His  service.  I 
retraced  my  steps,  and  descended  to  the  Kedron  through 
the  vast  burial-place  of  the  Jews.  It  is  an  old  tradition 
with  them  that  hei'e  is  to  be  the  Day  of  Judgment,  and 
that  to  this  spot  all  souls  must  pass  through  the  earth. 
To  save  trouble,  they  are  here  buried.  The  hill  side 
is  paved  with  grave-stones  all  directed  towards  the  Temple, 
and  having  Hebrew  inscriptions.  Hundreds  and  thousands 
lie  here.  Jews  from  every  quarter  of  the  globe,  Rabbins 
and  rascals,  men  of  God  and  men  of  gold,  have  sought  a 
resting-place  here  ever  since  the  destruction  of  the  Temph;. 
I  never  saw  such  a  valley  of  dry  bones.  It  readies  up 
nearly  to  the  spot  where  Christ  wept  over  Jerusalem,  and 
is  at  once  a  sad  comment  on  His  tears,  and  yet  rebuk(>s 
one  when  in  despair  it  is  said  of  the  Jews,  '  Can  these  diy 
bones  live  ?' 

*'  I  passed  Gethsemane,  but  did  not  enter.  It  is  sur- 
rounded by  a  high  wall,  and  is  laid  out  like  a  cafe  restaurant. 
I  don't  believe  in  it,  so  I  passed  on  farther  up  the  valley, 
until  I  reached  a  spot  which  v/as  interesting  to  me  as  one 
which  would  have  answered  all  the  requirements  of  Calvary 
more  than  any  I  have  seen 

"  There  is  really  nothing  interesting  in  Jerusalem  itself. 
All  the  streets  are  narrow  lanes,  like  the  closes  in  Edin- 
burgh ;  some  of  them  covered  over  to  keep  the  heat  out, 
some  paved  with  slippery  stones,  some  rough  earth.  At 
the  church  of  the  Holy  Sepulchre  I  was  most  profoundly 
touched  by  watching  the  pilgrims  who  crushed  in  and  out. 
They  were  mostly  Russians  and  Copts,  Avith  Greeks  from 
the  Levant.  Oh  !  what  faces,  what  marvellous  faces, 
dr.  sses  and  expressions  !      One  was  carried  centuries  bade 

M    2 


i64  LIFE  OF  AORMAX  MACLEOD. 

The  intense  and  affectionate  devotion  with  Mliicli  some 
kissed  the  scpuleln-e  was  to  nie  very  toucliing.  It  was  as 
a  God  to  them.  There  are  at  present  some  EngHsh  devotees, 
male  and  female,  here,  half  puppies,  half  superstitious.      In 

this  hotel  is  a  Mr.  ,  who  signs  himself  '  Priest  of  the 

Church  of  England,'  who  seems  to  be  fother  confessor 
to  an  elderly  rich  lady.  They  walk  with  candles  in  the 
processions,  and  attend  all  the  services.  But  I  have  no 
time  to  tell  you  of  the  odd  half-cracked  characters  who 
come  to  this  city,  '  The  Church,'  '  The  Jews,'  '  The 
Millennium  '  are  the  crotchets.  The  Jews  and  the  Moslems 
have  their  crazes  also." 


To  his  Sister  Jane  : — 

From  Nazareth,  March  2-ith,  1SG4. 

"  An  hour  ago  I  left  my  tent  and  paced  slowly  along  a 
path  which  led  to  a  low  ridge  of  hills,  or  '  a  brae  face.' 
The  moon  was  shining  gloriously  among  the  stars,  our  own 
northern  stars,  in  a  cloudless  sky.  I  sat  down  and  gazed  on 
a  small  town  which  clasped  the  low  hills  on  the  opposite 
side  of  the  narrow  valley,  like  a  necklace  of  white  coral.  At 
one  en<l,  and  down  in  the  valley  a  few  hundred  yards,  were 
the  lights  from  our  tents,  which,  in  the  pure  air,  scintillated 
like  diamonds.  Not  a  sound  was  heard  hut  the  barking 
of  dogs,  and  the  croaking  of  frogs.  You  can  understand 
my  feelmgs  better  than  I  can  describe  them  when  I  tell 
you  that  the  village  was  Nazareth  !  And  you  can  sym- 
pathize with  me  when  I  say  to  you  that,  after  gazing 
awhile  in  almost  breathless  silence,  and  thinking  of  Him 
who  had  there  lived  and  laboured  and  preached  ;  and  see- 
ing in  the  moonlight  near  me  the  well  of  the  city  to  which 
He  and  Mary  had  often  come,  and,  farther  off,  the  white 
precipice  over  which  they  had  threatened  to  cast  Him  ;  and 
then  tracing  in  my  mind  the  histories  connected  with  other 
marvellous  scenes  in  His  life,  until  'Jesus  of  Nazareth, 
King  of  the  Jews '  died  at  Jerusalem,  and  all  the  inexpres- 
sibly glorious  results  since  that  day  which  has  made  the 
name  of  this  place  identical  with  the  glory  of  the  world  ; 
and  when  I  thoufrht  of  all   that  I  and  others  dear  to  me 


iSO:;.— 63.  165 

had  received  from  Him,  and  from  all  He  was  and  did, 
you  will  not  wonder  that  I  knelt  down  and  poured  out 
my  soul  to  God  in  praise  and  prayer.  And  in  that  prayer 
there  mingled  the  events  of  my  past  life,  and  all  my 
friends  whom  I  loved  to  mention  by  name,  and  my  dear 
father,  and  the  old  Highlands,  the  state  of  the  Church 
and  of  the  world,  until  I  felt  Christ  so  real,  that  had  He 
appeared  and  spoken  it  would  not  have  seemed  strange. 
I  reurned  more  solemnized  than  from  the  Communion, 
and  bless  God  for  such  an  hour.  Disapjoointed  with  Pales- 
tine !  I  cannot  tell  you  what  it  has  been  to  me,  more,  far, 
fai  more  than  I  anticipated.  It  has  been  a  Holy  Land 
every  step  of  it.  I  have  drunk  instruction  and  enjoyment 
by  every  pore.  I  don't  care  for  the  towns,  for  they  are 
not  the  towns,  but  totally  different — but  the  sites  of  them, 
the  views  from  them,  the  relationship  of  one  to  another  ! 
Oh !  it  is  inexpressibly  delightful.  Think  only  of  this 
one  day.  From  an  old  tower  in  Jezreel  I  looked  out  at  one 
window ;  there  was  Gilboa  beside  me,  and  below,  gleaming 
in  the  sunshine,  the  well  of  Gideon,  and  beyond  Bethshan, 
where  the  bodies  of  Saul  and  Jonathan  were  hung  up, 
and  the  ridge  of  Little  Hermon,  over  which  Saul  Avent  to 
Endor,  and  beyond  the  hills  of  Gilead,  and  the  plain  up 
which  Jehu  drove,  and  the  spot,  or  very  near  it,  where 
Naboth's  vineyard  must  have  been.  From  another  Avindow 
was  Little  Hermon,  and,  in  a  green  nook,  Shunem.  From 
another  window  Taanach,  Megiddo  and  Carmel ;  Avhile  the 
glorious  plain  of  Esdraelon,  dotted  with  Bedawin  tents  and 
flocks,  stretched  around !  Then  in  an  hour  after  we 
entered  Nain,  and  gazed  on  Tabor  beside  us  ;  and  after 
remaining  at  Nain,  and  reading  the  story  of  the  blessed 
miracle,  we  crossed  the  plain,  and  for  an  hour  wound  our 
way  through  the  little  glens  (so  like  the  Highlands)  of  the 
mountains  of  Galilee,  until  we  came  to  this  sweet  retired 
nest  among  the  lovely  knowes.  What  a  day  in  a  man's 
life !  and  yet  it  is  but  one  of  many. 

"Easter  Sunday. — I  have  come  down  from  the  ruins  of 
the  old  Castle  of  Safed.  The  day  is  glorious,  and  more  so 
from  there  having  been  deluges  of  rain  all  night  and  this 
morning,  and  masses  of  cumuli  clouds  break  the  blue  space 


i66  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

of  the  sky,  and  cast  on  the  landscape  deep  shadows  tliat 
relieve  the  eye  from  tlio  usual  glare.  I  was  seated  on  the 
highest  point  of  a  hill  which  sweeps  up  from  the  Lake  of 
Tiberias  nearly  three  thousand  feet,  and  is  encircled  by  tlic 
town  of  Safed,  and  crowned  with  the  grand  ruins  of  the 
old  Crusader  castle.  Below  lay  the  Lake  of  Tiberias, 
still  and  calm  ;  the  green  plain  of  Genesareth,  with 
tlie  ruins  of  Magdala,  and  probably  Capernaum,  below  us 
round  a  bay.  On  the  opposite  side  Avas  the  valley  where 
the  miracle  of  the  Gadarene  demoniac  took  place.  The 
end  of  the  lake  where  the  Jordan  enters  tlie  lake,  and 
where  Bethsaida  was,  was  concealed  by  a  hill ;  but  there 
below  lay  the  immortal  lake  itself — the  most  famous  lake  in 
the  world — about  which  I  need  not  speak  to  you — and 
when  looking  at  it,  could  hardly  speak  to  any  one.  Beyond 
the  lake  stretched  the  table-land  of  the  Hauran  on  to  the 
horizon.  The  green  valley  of  the  Jordan  was  seen  at  the 
south  end.  To  the  right  was  Tabor,  and  the  mountains 
of  Galilee  and  Samaria  farther  away,  with  sunlight  and 
cloud  and  shadows  over  them. 

"  It  was  my  last  look  of  Tiberias,  and,  with  it,  of  the  true 
Holy  Land.  I  can  trace  Christ's  steps  no  more.  I  had 
sailed  on  Tiberias,  Friday  evening  (Good  Friday),  and  at 
our  request  the  fishermen  let  down  their  net  for  a  drauglit 
and  caught  nothing,  though  they  often  get  great  hauls. 
We  rode  along  its  shores  past  Magdala,  and  now  I  have 
bidden  it  farewell  for  ever  in  this  life.  I  felt  to-day  as 
when  taking  my  last  look  of  Jerusalem,  as  if  it  were  the 
last  look  of  some  beloved  friend,  whom,  however,  I  hope 
to  see  purified  and  renewed  in  the  new  heavens  and  the 
new  earth.  My  heart  is  full  as  I  say  farewell.  I  shall  see 
the  Lebanon,  Sidon,  Damascus  and  other  places,  but  not 
such  holy  spots  as  I  have  been  gazing  on  with  prayer  and 
praise  ;  spots  in  which  heaven  and  earth,  nu-n  and  angels, 
have  met,  and  in  which  things  have  taken  place  and  words 
have  been  uttered,  Avhich  have  moulded  the  history  of  the 
world  and  will  l)e  more  famous  in  eternity  than  in  time, 
and  among  saints  in  Heaven  than  among  sinners  on  earth. 


I 


1864 — 6;.  167 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

Feom  Athens. 

"  I  am  so  thankful  to  have  seen  this  after  Palestine.  It 
does  not  lessen  ray  first  love.  It  completes  the  circle  of 
the  past — Paul  and  the  Areopagus  unite  the  two.  There 
are  many  striking  contrasts  between  them. 

"  When  I  look  over  the  landscape  from  the  AcropoHs,  or 
journey  over  the  country  around,  there  is  not  a  village  near, 
nor  a  ruin,  nor  spot,  with  the  exception  of  Salamis  and 
Marathon,  that  is  famous  for  any  great  fact  which  the  world 
knows  of  or  feels  interested  in.  In  Palestine  every  hill 
and  village  is  alive  with  histor3^  It  is  Athens  alone — 
there  it  is  the  whole  country.  Then  again,  while  I 
recoQfnise  all  that  Athens  has  oriven  to  the  world,  whether 
of  art,  philosophy,  histor}',  poetry,  or  eloquence,  as  precious 
gifts  from  God,  a  grand  portion  of  the  education  of  our 
race,  which  has  told  as  no  other  has  done  on  the  culture 
of  mankind — yet  how  different  in  kind,  in  universality,  in 
intensity,  has  been  the  influence  of  Palestine !  An  old 
shepherd  wdio  lived  four  thousand  years  ago,  like  Abraham, 
is  almost  worshipped  by  the  Mahommedans,  Jews,  and 
Christians,  and  is  known  as  "  El  Khulil,"  the  Friend  of 
God.  What  has  he  been — what  have  others  in  Palestine 
been — to  the  spirits  and  hearts  of  the  race  ?  While  the 
kings  and  gods  of  Egypt  have  passed  away,  the  people 
who  live  beneath  the  Acropolis  know  him,  and  don't  know 
the  names  even  of  their  mighty  dead  who  have  nevertheless 
immortalised  their  city.  There  are  thirty  marble  chairs  in 
the  Theatre  of  Dionysus,  which  were  the  official  seats  of 
the  priests  of  Bacchus,  and  of  the  different  village  or 
parish  temples.  They  have  not  a  representative  on  earth ! 
Athens  has  given  much  to  the  world  !  but  in  Palestine 
the  Father  was  revealed  to  it.  That  is  the  gift  of  gifts 
to  the  whole  family  of  man." 

From  his  JorEXAL  : — 

"  May  1 ,  Sunday  Morning. — I  returned  Friday  night 
from  my  tour.  I  record  the  mercy  of  God  to  me  and 
mine,  but  I  have  no  words  to  express  what  that  has  been. 


1 68  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

I  have  had  one  of  the  most  glorious  tours  which  man  can 
have  ill  this  world  —  Malta,  Alexandria,  Cairo,  Suez, 
Joppa,  Jerusalem  by  Bethoron,  Hebron,  the  Dead  Sea, 
Marsaba,  north  to  Tiberias  by  Samaria,  Nazareth,  Safed, 
Sidon,  Beyrout,  Damascus,  Cyprus,  Rliodes,  Smyrna, 
Athens,  ^lurathon,  Constantinople,  and  home  by  the 
Danube,  and  Vienna,  Dresden,  Hanover.  I  have  not 
had  an  hour's  ill  health  or  anxiety  of  mind.  We  have  all 
been  happy  and  enjoyed  everything  intensely.  I  cannot 
count  my  gains.  I  feel  as  if  I  had  searched  for  hid 
treasure,  expecting  hundreds  and  found  thousands.  And 
then  at  lioiue  tlie  mercy  has  been  so  wonderful.  Every- 
thing in  my  parish  has  gone  on  with  perfect  smoothness. 

"  And  now  the  desire  of  my  heart  is,  that  the  same  God 
of  mercy  and  grace  may  enable  me  to  turn  this  and  all  He 
has  given  me  to  the  best  possible  account  for  the  good  of 
my  people  and  country.  May  I  be  able  to  gather  up  the 
fragments  of  time  that  remain  !  May  I  be  enabled  to  do 
good  to  my  fellow-men  by  word,  by  my  pen,  by  my  life 
and  labour  ;  to  live  simply,  truly,  and  unselfishly  ;  and  so 
through  faith  in  God  to  be  carried  through  the  battle  of 
life  which  rages  loud  and  long  around  me,  among  the  poor 
and  iijnorant  and  amonof  ecclesiastics  !  God  of  truth,  lead 
me  into  all  truth  !  God  of  power,  strengthen  me  !  God 
of  wisdom,  direct  me  !  God  of  love,  fill  my  heart !  And 
grant  that  when  days  of  darkness  fall — when  affliction 
comes,  sickness,  or  weak  old  age,  I  may  be  strengthened 
in  the  faith  of  Thy  Fatherhood  by  recalling  the  marvellous 
mercies  of  these  past  months,  added  to  all  those  received 
from  Thy  hand,  when  verily  I  am  unworthy  of  the  least ! 
Amen  and  amen.  So  ends  a  memorable  period  of  my 
life! 

"  June  3,  One  a.m. — I  this  day  enter  my  fifty-second 
year.      I  do  so  blessing  and  praising  God," 

The  General  Assembly  of  this  year  unanimously 
appointed  him  to  the  Convenership  of  the  Ijidia  Mis- 
sion ;  and  with  much  gratitude  for  the  confidence 
thus  reposed    in  him,  he  determined   to   devote  liia 


1864 — 6s.  169 

energies  to  its  advancement.  To  awaken  a  lively 
interest  in  Missionary  affairs,  and  to  promote  a  more 
effective  method  of  conducting  them,  was  henceforth 
to  be  one  of  the  great  works  of  his  life.  His  journals 
show  how  many  places  he  visited,  and  indicate  the 
variety  of  meetings  he  addressed  with  this  view,  but 
they  convey  a  very  inadequate  impression  of  the  time 
he  had  to  spend  in  reading,  in  correspondence,  and  in 
anxious  thought. 

From  his  JomiNAL : — 

"June  12,  IS'^^. — There  are  several  events  in  my  life 
which  I  should  like  to  record.  The  first  of  these  is  the  unani- 
mous offer — unsought  for  and  unexpected,  God  knoweth^ 
by  the  General  Assembly  of  the  Convenership  of  the  India 
Mission.  I  have  accepted  of  this  without  doubt,  though 
not  without  solemn  and  prayerful  consideration — for  I 
have  tried,  at  least  for  the  last  twenty-five  years,  to  accept 
of  whatever  work  is  offered  to  me  in  God's  providence.  I 
have,  rightly  or  wrongly,  always  believed  that  a  man's 
work  is  given  to  him — that  it  need  not  so  much  be  sought 
as  accepted — that  it  is  floated  to  one's  feet  like  the  infant 
Moses  to  Pharaoh's  daughter, 

"  Mission  work  has  been  a  possession  of  my  spirit  ever 
since  I  became  a  minister ;  I  feel  that  God  has  long  been 
educating  me  for  it.  I  go  forth  tolerably  well  informed  as 
to  facts,  and  loving  the  work  itself,  with  heart,  soul,  and 
strength,  I  accept  it  from  God,  and  have  perfect  confidence 
in  the  power  and  grace  of  God  to  give  us  the  men  and  the 
money.  Thank  God  for  calling  me  in  my  advanced  years 
to  so  glorious  and  blessed  a  work. 

"  We  want  men — God-lovinof  men.  These  are  to  be 
obtained  chiefly  through  prayer.  '  Pray  the  Lord  of  the 
Harvest  to  send  forth  labourers.'  We  want  money,  but 
the  silver  and  gold  are  the  Lord's,  and  He  can  open  up 
every  purse,  and  my  hope  is  in  Him. 

"It  is  my  intention  to  address  Presbyteries,  and  to  hold 


170  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

public  meetings  everywhere  for  aiding  tlie  glorious  work. 
The  Lord  be  with  me  to  give  me  the  Spirit  of  Christ  and 
of  a  sound  mind  to  consider  my  brethren,  to  support  the 
weak,  to  be  patient  to  all,  to  help  the  weak  to  good,  and 
to  trust  God  for  the  increase,  while  we  plant  and  water 
according  to  their  need. 

"  An  immense  deal  has  yet  to  be  done.  We  have  to  re- 
consider the  whole  idea  of  missions — the  preaching  mis- 
sion, and  how  to  preach  and  what  to  preach,  so  as  to  get 
at  the  Hindoo  and  Mussulman  mind  ;  the  teaching  mis- 
sion, and  how  the  child  is  to  be  treated  in  relation  to  his 
heathen  parent  ;  the  tract  mission,  and  what  sort  of 
tracts  India  needs  ;  the  healing  mission,  and  the  j^lace 
■which  hospital  and  alms-giving  should  hold.  We  have 
to  consider  the  organization  and  local  government  of 
missions,  and  how  to  build  up  congregations  so  as  to  bring 
the  moral  power,  the  character,  and  the  Christian  order  of 
the  family  and  the  congregation  to  bear  on  the  work.  We 
have  to  consider  the  retiring  allowances  for  missionaries 
and  the  sick,  the  relationship  of  the  missions  of  one 
Church  to  another,  &c.  The  Lord  be  with  us !  His 
Spirit  can  do  it.  He  loves  it.  It  is  His  work.  AVe  are 
but  fellow-workers. 

"  I  have  lost  a  dear  friend  in  Principal  Leitch.  Poor 
dear  Boss !  I  cannot  think  of  the  world  as  henceforth 
without  him — so  simple  and  true,  so  loyal,  so  genuine  !  I 
have,  with  very  few  exceptions,  no  such  friend  on  earth — 
none  who  knew  my  failings  as  he  did,  none  to  cover 
them  as  he  did,  none  to  love  me  in  spite  of  them  as  he 
did.  Well,  he  is  another  portion  of  my  treasure  in  heaven  ! 
And  so  is  Tom  Baird,  the  carter,  the  beadle  of  my  working 
man's  church,  as  noble  a  fellow  as  ever  lived — God-fearing, 
true,  unselfish.  I  shall  never  forget  what  he  said  when  I 
asked  him  to  stand  at  the  door  of  the  working  man's  con- 
gregation and  when  I  thought  he  was  unwilling  to  do  so  in 
his  working  clothes.      '  If,'  said  I,  '  you  don't  like  to  do  it, 

Tom,  if  you  are  ashamed '     '  Ashamed  ! '  he  exclaimed 

as  he  turned  round  upon  me.  '  I'm  mair  ashamed  o'  yer- 
sel',  sir.  Div'  ye  think  that  I  believe,  as  ye  ken  I  do,  that 
Jesus  Christ,  who  died  for  me,  was  stri^^ited  o'  his  raiment 


1864 — 65-  '7» 

on  die  cross,  and  that  I Na,  na,  I'm  prood  tae  stan'  at 

the  door.'  Dear  good  fellow  !  There  he  stood  for  seven 
winters  without  a  sixpence  of  pay  ;  all  from  love,  though 
at  my  request  the  working  congregation  gave  him  a  silver 
watch. 

"  When  he  was  dying  from  small-pox,  the  same  un- 
selfisli  nature  appeared.  When  asked  if  they  would  let 
me  know,  he  replied,  '  There's  nae  man  leevin'  I  like  as  I 
do  him.  I  know  he  wad  come.  But  he  shouldna  come 
on  account  of  his  wife  and  bairns,  and  so  ye  maun  na'  tell 
him  ! '  I  never  saw  him  in  his  illness,  never  hearing  of 
his  danger  till  it  was  too  late. 

"  This  India  mission  presses  itself  with  greater  solemnity 
on  me  every  day  ;  I  feel  Jesus  has  given  us  to  do  the 
noblest  Avork  which  can  occupy  the  energies  of  men  here 
below  or  of  angels  above — not  foreign  missions  only,  but 
all  missions,  every  effort,  from  that  in  our  own  hearts,  our 
own  families,  our  congregations,  to  make  men  know  God, 
and  thus  to  respond  to  His  own  love.  All  our  diffi- 
culties are  in  ourselves.  We  are  so  poor,  so  mean,  so 
cowardly  ;  there  is  such  a  want  of  thorough  consecration, 
which  is  just  a  loving  spirit  of  true  liberty  and  perfect 
peace.      It  alarms  me  greatly,  yet  not  enough. 

"  I  will  labour  and  pray  for  the  establishment  of  strong 
missions,  and,  above  all, — above  all  for  men  who  peril  their 
souls,  their  all  in  Christ !  Oh,  for  godly  men  to  be  mis- 
sionaries. A  godly  man  has  God's  spirit  with  him  to  guide 
him,  direct  him,  bless  him.  This  is  the  all  in  all.  Such 
a  man  must  be  a  useful  man.  A  man  of  love,  real  and 
genuine,  is  the  godly  man.  Jesus  Christ,  Lord  of  the 
Harvest,  for  this  I  pray  !  give  us  godly  missionaries  !  Lord, 
I  beheve  ;  help  my  unbelief.  Oh,  my  Saviour,  bless  this 
mission  work !      My  beloved  Saviour,  my  hope  is  in  Thee  ! 

"I  wish  £10,000  a  year  at  least,  and  ten  men  at  least, 
to  preach  Christ  to  India.  If  I  had  not  faith  in  Christ  I 
sliould  despair." 


172  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  his  ^^OTIIKR : — 

July  lOth,  18G4. 

"  This  goes  merely  to  certify  to  you,  on  the  best 
authority,  that  (1)  I  have  addressed,  since  I  saw  you,  both 
Presbyteries  and  public  meetings  at  Dunoon,  Perth,  Dun- 
keld,  Cupar-Angus,  Forfar,  Cupar-Fife  ;  (2)  that  this  week 
I  have  to  do  ditto  at  Dunse,  Greenlaw,  Chirnside,  Lin- 
lithgow ;  (3)  the  week  after  at  Galashiels,  Selkirk,  Kelso, 
Hawick,  Melrose  ;  (4)  that  I  am  not  suttering  from  sore 
throat,  sore  back,  head,  heart,  lungs,  brain,  nerves,  muscles, 
sinews,  legs,  arms,  back,  neck,  heels,  toes — but  am  from 
tip  to  toe  jolly. 

"  My  work,  bless  God,  goes  on  benui  ifiilly.  All  so  kind 
and  cordial.  I  feel  more  thankful  than  I  can  tell,  and  I 
am  in  perfect  peace  and  in  great  feather." 

To  Dr.  Chauteris  : — 

Sth  Avmtst,  1864. 

"  The  missionary  who  we  hoped  would  have  gone 
withdraws,  as  his  parents  say  '  No.'  Parental  affirmatives 
are  generally  gladly  given  to  good  money  prospects  in  the 
East,  or  to  prospects  of  promotion,  with  the  chance  of  a 
bullet  through  the  brain  of  their  beloved. 

"  Faith,  if  not  dead,  sleepeth.  We  cannot  create 
missionaries.  We  can  pray  and  wait — ay,  for  a  lifetime, 
if  needs  be. 

"  It  would  in  the  end  be  a  rich  gain  to  the  Church  if 
deep  silence  for  j^ears  was  the  only  response  to  her  call  for 
missionaries,  and  that  this  brought  Divinity  professors  and 
ministers  to  their  knees  before  a  throne  of  grace. 

"  How  can  Christ  do  many,  or  any,  mighty  works,  if 
there  te  no  faith  ?  How  can  He  give,  if  we  don't  as  a 
Church  ask  like  men  in  earnest  ?" 


From  his  J  orRXAL  : — 

PlTLOCHKrE. 

"  Thtirsdiiy,  t]\o  armiversiry  of  my  marriage.  We  went 
up  Glen  Tilt,  and  had  a  pic-nic  with  our  children  only  ; 
and,  amidst  the  glories  of  the  earth,   rejoiced  that  they 


'■■  1 864 — 65.  173 

were  born  into  sucli  a  Avorld,  with  such  a  Father  and 
Saviour.  Oh  yes,  very,  very  thankful  were  we  both.  Oh, 
my  Father,  the  only  thing  I  dread  is  sin  in  my  darlings. 
Good  Lord,  loving  Father,  deliver  us  from  that  hell ! 

"  We  had  another  fine  day  at  the  Loch,  and  all  ended  by 
an  evening  in  company  with  dear  John  Shairp,  at  the  river, 
side,  hearing  John  McPherson,  the  piper,  play  out  his 
glorious  pibrochs.  What  a  power  they  have  over  me  !  I 
wept  hke  a  child  hearing  them.  My  father  and  all  the 
romantic  past  mingled  with  their  every  note.* 

"  My  children  are  a  source  of  unspeakable  blessing,  yet 
Christian  anxiety.  I  feel  more  and  more  that  there  is  a 
life  totally  different  in  kind  from  the  life  in  the  natural 
man;  a  life  in  the  Spirit,  which  must  be  begun  and 
developed  into  life  everlasting  by  God's  Spirit,  for  which 
we  must  pray.  How  solemn  is  the  fact  of  the  /■ — the 
personality — the  out-of-us  individuahsm  of  each  child  ! 
How  impossible  to  renew  the  soul  of  one  we  would  die 
for.      Oh,  my  Father,  it  is  Thy  work  !      We  cling  to  Thee. 

"  September  6. — Left  Saturday  morning  to  visit  the 
Prince  of  Wales  at  Abergeldie. 

•'  It  is  a  glorious  Highland  residence.  The  golden  pil- 
lared pines,  the  royal  heather,  the  great  sweep  of  the 
valley,  the  high  ranges,  the  quiet  ! 

•  "When  we  speak  of  the  bn.?-mpe  we  mean  the  great  war-pipe, 
played  no^  by  the  wretched  halt- gipsy  performers  who  presume  to 
finder  it,  but  t»y  that  personification  of  dignity — pardon  the  exi)ressioii 
— the  genuine  piper,  whose  slow  and  measured  tread  and  erect  bear- 
ing combine  to  express  his  earnest  love  for,  and  his  sense  of,  the 
dio-nity  of  his  calling.  The  mu^ic,  moreover,  we  assume  to  be  the 
pibroch  only.  We  call  the  pibroch  'music'  just  as  we  would  that  of 
the  music  of  the  midnight  storm  as  it  roars  ihroiigh  the  pine  forest,  or 
the  screams  of  the  blast  among  the  mountain  peaks,  or  the  music 
of  the  crested  sea-wave  as  it  thunders  on  the  rocky  shore.  And 
to  those  who  understand  the  carefully  composed  structure  of  the 
music  of  the  bagpipe,  there  is  a  pathos  and  depth  of  feeling  sug- 
gested by  it  which  a  Highlander  alone  can  fully  sympathize  with ; 
associated  too,  as  it  always  is,  with  the  most  touching  memories  of  his 
home  and  country.  It  summons  up  both  before  his  inward  eye.  It 
revives  the  faces  and  forms  of  the  departed.  It  opens  up  panoramas 
of  mountain,  loch,  and  glen ;  and  thus,  if  it  excites  the  stranger  to 
laughter,  it  excites  the  Highlander  to  tears,  as  no  other  music  can  do, 
in  spite  of  the  most  refined  culture  of  other  years." — "  Mountain,  Loch^ 
and  Olen." 


174  /'//'^^'  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  I  had  a  sweet  walk  in  the  forest. 

"Left  on  Monthly  at  11  for  Inverness,  and  have  had 
meetings  at  Tain,  500  or  GOO  present,  mostly  of  the 
Free  Cliurch. 

"I  have  been  amazed  with  Ross  and  Sutherland.  1 
never  beheld  such  a  comijiuation  of  highly  cultivated  fields 
with  good  wooding  and  pictures([ue  scenery.  It  has  the 
luxuritnis  cultivation  of  Kelso  with  the  scenery  of  the 
Highlands.  Yet  this  country  which  has  but  one  form  of 
(Jhurch  jjovernment,  one  confession  of  faith,  one  form  of 
worship,  is  more  literally  divided,  more  sectarian,  than  any 
country  I  liave  ever  been  in.  The  feelings  of  the  Free 
Cliurch  to  the  Establishment  (for  it  is  chiefly  on  their  part, 
beyond  doubt)  are  hardly  equalled  by  those  of  the  Roman 
Catholics  in  Galway  to  a  Protestant  missionary,  or  those  of 
the  Mohammedan  in  Damascus  to  a  Christian.  So  it  has 
been  hitherto,  and  that,  as  usual,  owing  to  the  clergy, 
those  sources  of  so  much  good  and  of  so  much  evil  to  the 
Church  of  God. 

"  But  I  was  most  thankful  to  see  men  that  were  worthies 
of  the  Free  Kirk  come  to  my  meetings.  This  eased  my 
heart.  I  prayed  God  to  be  able  to  speak  truth,  that  would 
reach  deeper  down  than  all  their  controversies,  and  such 
as  would  make  for  peace.  Would  that  my  brethren  would 
concentrate  themselves  in  faith  on  doing  good,  '  seeking 
first  the  kingdom  of  God,'  and  leaving  Christ  to  arrange 
and  add  all  other  things  unto  them. 

"A  Sutherland  missionary  to  India  would  be  a  blessing 
to  all  of  them  and  to  their  people. 

"  October  6. — Have  had  meetings  at  Inverary,  Falkirk, 
and  Hamilton  (Presbytery).  I  have  been  fagged,  bothered, 
addled,  dowie." 

To  Mrs.  Macleou  : — 

Aberdeen,  October  \Oth. 

"  I  have  a  short  time  before  I  address  the  Synod  at  two, 
to  write  to  you.  I  don't  know  why  I  should  feel  so  very 
much  to-day  ;  but  I  liave  been  for  two  hours  preparing 
with  head  and  heart  to  speak  worthily  on  this  great  sub- 
ject.     My  heart  trembles  for  the  ark  of  God.      I  do  feel 


i86+— 65-  17s 

this  to  be  a  crisis  in  our  mission  histor^^  and  I  am  so 
anxious.  In  proportion  as  I  believe  in  the  certainty  of 
success  if  we  seek  the  Lord,  and  humbly  endeavour  to  do 
His  work,  in  that  proportion  I  feel  the  terrible  sin  and 
eternal  loss  if  it  is  not  done.  I  heard  Doctor  Duff  last 
night.  1  have  not  seen  him  since  we  met  in  Paris,  long 
ago,  at  the  Alliance,  nor  have  I  heard  him  since  he  made 
his  great  speech  in  the  Assembly  of  '38.  He  is,  of  course, 
older,  and  visibly  feebler  ;  but  that  very  feebleness  was  to 
mesotouchingly  eloquent.  How  humbled  I  felt  before  him., 
how  inwardly  I  revered  and  blessed  the  old  soldier  of  the 
cross.  I  have  desires  and  words,  weak  and  feeble.  But 
he  is  the  living  embodiment  of  work  done." 


To  a  Eelative  who  had  announced  his  betrothal : — 

"Of  course  I  know  all  you  feel  and  all  you  think. 
'  You  feel  that ' — of  course  you  do — '  and  that  if ' — of 
coarse — '  and  that  no  man  ' — of  course — '  and  that  your 
own  heart  can  tell ' — no  doubt  of  it — '  and  that  when  you 
came  home  last  night  you  ' — who  denies  it  ? — '  and  that 
the  solemnity  of — I  agree  with  you. 

"  God  bless  you,  my  dear  boy !  No  one  more  deeply 
.sympathizes  with  you." 

The  following  letter  was  written  after  opening  a 
box  of  edible  fungi  which  had  lain  in  the  house  for 
some  days,  during  his  absence  from  home,  having  been 
sent  him  by  Dr.  Esdaile,  well  known  for  his  advocacy 
of  the  use  of  horseflesh,  and  for  his  experiments  in 
pisciculture,  and  still  better  known  for  his  heroic  and 
successful  efforts  to  found  a  College  for  Ministers' 
Daughters : 


To  the  Eev.  Dr.  Esdaile,  Eescobie : — 

Oct.  2oth,  I861. 

"  My  dear  Easdail — or  Esdale — or  Esdaile,  for  such  a 

queer  fellow  cannot  be  easily  made  out.     I  received  your 


176  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

piuliloek  stools  after  I  returned  home  from  a  mission  tour. 
As  holy  things,  or  as  noxious  things,  they  were  set  aside  hy 
the  family,  with  mingled  feelings  of  awe,  mystery,  and 
terror.  That  death  was  in  the  box  was  obvious  to  the 
senses — but  death  of  what  ?  Was  it  a  new  murder  ?  A 
man's  head,  or  a  whole  child,  or  a  leg  of  some  Briggs  ? 
I  myself  opened  the  box  with  one  careful  hand  while  I 
held  my  nose  with  another.  It  was  an  awful  evidence  of 
the  doctrine  of  corruption !  But  not  of  the  will,  and  so  I 
thank  you  heartily  for  your  goodwill  in  sending  me  the 
deadly  poison  and  congratulate  myself  on  my  escape. 
Why  did  you  expect  the  Barony  ?  Your  sermon  was 
highly  acceptable  ;  but  why  kill  the  parson  ?  Esdaile  ! 
you  know  what  you  are,  and  if  you  don't  stoj)  these 
savage  feastings  on  mare's  flesh  and  mushrooms,  I'll  have 
you  up  as  a  witch  or  murderer. 

"  Thanks  I  say  for  your  foul  intentions,  and  for  my 
lucky  escape. 

"  Go  alono" !  You  mushroom  wasting^,  horseflesh  eatinc^, 
oyster  breeding,  mussel  growing,  salmon  fishing,  Ministers' 
Daughters  training,  good  for  everything  mortal" 

To  his  MoxnER : — 

"  I  have  been  every  night,  except  Saturday,  away  from 
my  own  family  !  It  is  very  hard,  but  '  what  can  a  fellow 
do?' 

"  Dr.  Duff  has  written  me  a  very  kind  letter  to  meet 
him  here  next  week. 

"  The  Free  Kirk  have  subscribed  handsomely  to  my 
mission. 

"  The  first  man  I  called  on  gave  me  £250  !  and  wrote 
such  a  nice  note." 


From  his  JoTTRNAL  :— 

"  Dec.  18. — I  was  invited  by  Prince  Alfred  to  spend  the 
14th,  the  anniversary  of  his  father's  death,  with  him  at 
Darmstadt.  The  Queen  commanded  me  to  see  her  before  I 
went,  so  on  Monday  I  went  to  Windsor.     I  told  her  that  the 


1 864 — 65.  177 

more  I  was  confided  in,  tlie  more  I  felt  my  responsibility 
to  speak  the  truth.  That  night  I  went,  via  Calais,  to 
Darmstadt.     The  Prince  joined  the  train  at  Bonn. 

"  To-day  (Sunday)  I  expounded  in  the  forenoon,  and 
now  express  my  grateful  thanks  to  my  Father,  my  guide, 
my  help,  my  all,  for  His  mercy  to  me  during  this  last 
heavy  and  important  week. 

"  Oh,  let  me  nevei  lose  my  trust  in  Him,  or  be  afraid 
of  accepting  any  duty  imposed  on  me  in  His  Providence, 
but  step  out  bravely  and  humbly  at  His  bidding,  sure  of 
His  blessinof. 

"  I  have  during  the  past  year  been  pretty  steadily  in  my 
own  pulpit,  but  with  the  exception  of  visiting  the  sick,  I 
have  been  able  to  do  little  parish  work,  which  deeply  pains 
me.  I  have  written  eleven  Sermons  for  Good  Words  and 
two  Articles  ;  prepared  some  of  the  memoir  of  my  father, 
and  first  part  of  *  Home  Preacher,' 


To  A.  Strahai^,  Esq. : — 

M'/7    •  hf    f  ^^^^  December,  1864, 
^    '  \  1st  January,  1865. 

"  God  bless  you,  and  may  He  enable  you  and  me,  with 
honest,  simple,  believing,  and  true  hearts,  to  do  His  will, 
and,  come  weal  or  woe,  to  make  Good  Words  a  means  oi 
doing  real  good  to  our  fellow-men,  and  so  pleasing  our 
Master  that,  when  time  shall  be  no  more,  He  will  receive 
us  as  fiiithful  servants.      Amen." 


From  his  JotJENAL  : — 

"  January  Srd. — Let  me  here  record,  as  throwing 
some  light  on  the  folly  of  presentiments  and  dreams, 
the  following  facts,  without  the  slightest  shadow  of 
exaggeration. 

"  One  evening  when  sitting  alone,  before  starting  by  a 
night  train  for  London,  I  got  into  an  unaccountably  de- 
pressed state  of  mind.  The  thought  came  that  I,  or  my 
family,  might  be  entering  some  great  trial.  It  might  be 
a  railway  accident  ?    Yes  ! — so  said  I  to  myself, — I  shall  for 

VOL.    II.  N 


178  /.//'•/;  OF  X  OR  MAX  MACLEOD. 

the  first  time  in  my  life  take  an  insurance  ticket  for  £1,000 
This  resolution  brought  my  day  dream  to  a  conclusion, 
and  I  burst  into  a  fit  of  laughing  at  my  absurd  fore- 
boding, which  I  felt  was  from  over  work.  Wishing 
to  change  a  half-crown  to  pay  the  cab  before  taking 
my  ticket,  I  put  one  down  at  the  ticket  window,  and, 
Avithout  speaking  a  word,  received  an  insurance  ticket 
for  £1,000  and  3d,  I  think,  back.  Having  forgotten  mv 
dream,  I  was  taken  all  aback,  and  started.  '  I  never  asked 
for  a  ticket,'  I  said,  and  was  returning  it,  when  some 
one  over  my  shoulder  said,  '  I'll  take  it,  Doctor.'  But 
so  impressed  was  I  by  tlic  odd  coincidence  that  I  took 
it  for  the  first  (and  last)  time  in  my  life.  I  never  slept 
more  soundly,  and  never  had  a  safer  or  pleasanter 
journey. 

(2.)  As  to  dreams.  The  night  before  last  I  awoke  out 
of  a  horrible  nightmare,  I  thought  the  house  was  burn- 
ing— Johnnie's  room  on  fire,  and  I  in  vain  trying  to  take 
the  dear  boy  out  of  the  flames.  The  fact  of  his  being 
ill  since  Sunday  with  scarlatina  made  the  dream  more  pain- 
ful. I  told  it  in  the  morning,  and  also  what  had  occa- 
sioned it.  The  day  before,  when  in  the  Barony,  I  was 
thinking  what  I  should  do  if  the  church  was  on  fire,  and 
the  idea  for  a  few  minutes  quite  possessed  me,  as  any  day 
it  might  have  become  a  most  complicated  problem. 

"  After  telling  this  dream,  the  servant  who  slept  next 
room  to  my  boy,  both  doors  being  open,  told  me  he  had 
sprung  up  in  the  middle  of  the  night,  and  cried  out  to  her 
that  his  room  was  on  fire,  which  was  all  nonsense.  Now,  on 
examination,  I  found  that  my  brother  had  said  that  day, 
in  his  hearing,  to  my  wife,  that  the  only  reason  he  dis- 
liked rooms  in  the  attics,  like  his,  was  in  event  of  tire. 
This  had  produced  his  dream." 


To  J.  M.  Ludlow,  Esq. : — 

Jan.,  1865. 

"  Here  am  I  with  an  Indian  mission  to  conduct,  address- 
ing congregations.  Presbyteries  and  Synods,  a  committee 
to   manage,  papers   to   write,  corresjjondence  to  carry  on, 


i864 — 65. 


ijg 


missionaries  to  send  out  and  to  buy  their  outfit,  to  finger 

shirts  and  examine  towellings,  to  visit  my  people  two  days 

a   week,   preach  thrice,  teach   a 

class  every  Sunday,  collect  money 

to  build  schools  and  churches  (at 

the  rate  of  £1,000  a  year  for  14 

years),  to  hear  every  man  and 

woman   who  call  on   me  about 

everything  down  to  a  sore  finger, 

besides  having  to  rear  a  family    O         ^         lAy 

and  keep  my  liver  right.     High  C^  *-     \   ' 
.,■>■>  o 


an ; 


To  his  brother  Donald  ; — 

"  Florence  !  Catch  me  making  such  a  fool  of  myself  at 
this  season !  Cadiz  would  be  better,  save  for  the  Bay  of 
Biscay. 


Barometer  looking  down. 

"  Better  at  home — snug  and  comfortable.** 


If  2 


i8o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  JomxAL  : — 

"  Heard  of  Lincoln's  death.  It  will,  under  God,  V)e  a 
huge  blessing  to  the  North,  and  be  the  ending  of  the  ac- 
cursed South. 

"  Had  Lee  or  Jeff.  Davies  been  assassinated,  what  a  howl  ! 
This  is  a  mighty  era  in  the  world's  history.  I  am  ashamed 
of  my  country.  This  sympathy  with  the  South  is  an  in- 
scrutable mystery  to  me  ;  I  cannot  make  it  out.  But  I  fear 
we  shall  have  to  suffer  for  our  grievous  pride.  I  still  hope 
that  America  will  be  our  noblest  and  staunchest  ally. 

"  Oh  that  the  Churches  would  rise  in  their  strength 
above  mere  politics,  and  say  before  God,  we  shall  be  one  in 
heart  for  the  good  of  the  world  ! 

"  I  have  never  swerved  in  my  sympathy  with  the  North, 
and  I  believe  the  day  is  not  far  off  Avhen  we  shall  hardly 
believe  that  Britain's  sympathy  was  with  the  South.  Oh, 
my  country  !  Oh,  Christian  Churches !  Repent  in  dust 
and  ashes  ! 

"  I  cannot  comprehend  man's  blindness  on  this  ques- 
tion !  I  rejoice  in  the  unity  and  prosperity  of  the  grand 
Republic  ;  its  strength  is  a  blessed  counterpoise  to  conti- 
nental despotism  and  mere  king-craft.  I  have  the  brightest 
hopes  of  its  future,  but  chiefly  through  the  influence  of  its 
Churches.  It  is  to  me  a  mystery  that  Britain  does  not 
rejoice  in  America.      I  do." 

The  innovations  in  public  worship  introduced  by 
Dr.  Robert  Lee,  Minister  of  Greyfriars,  Edinburgh, 
most  of  which  were  simply  restorations  of  the  earlier 
usage  of  the  Church,  were  now  agitating  the  ecclesi- 
astical mind  of  the  country  and  formed  the  chief 
topic  of  discussion  at  the  Assembly  of  1865.  Public 
opinion  since  then  has  so  much  changed  in  reference 
to  such  matters,  that  it  is  difficult  to  realise  the 
excitement  which  was  produced  by  the  use  of  read 
prayers  and  instrumental  music,  or  to  believe  that  it 
was  for  a  time  doubtful  whether  the  Church  would 


1864 — 65.  iSi 

tolerate  any  changes  in  her  service,  such  as  the 
increasing  culture  of  the  country  every  day  demanded 
more  loudly.  Dr.  Macleod  was  a  member  of  this 
Assembly,  and,  as  might  have  been  expected,  warmly 
espoused  the  side  of  progress. 

"  I  Avould  like  very  much  to  know  who  '  our  fathers ' 
are  to  whom  there  have  been  so  many  allusions  during 
the  discussion.  If  reference  is  made  to  those  respectable 
gentlemen  in  bob-wigs  that  used  to  sit  here  last  century, 
and  if  it  is  assumed  that  everything  they  did  tlien  is  to 
regulate  us  now,  let  that  be  plainly  asserted.  Some  of 
these  men,  doubtless,  did  much  good  in  their  day,  and  some 
of  them  did  very  little.  But  to  say  that  we  are  to  be  ruled 
by  all  that  they  did  would  be  just  as  absurd  as  if  in  the 
year  2000  all  progress  was  to  be  stopped  by  some  earnest 
men  quoting  the  opinions  of  '  the  fathers '  of  this 
generation.  I  should  tremble  at  myself  standing  up  to 
address  this  House,  if  there  was  a  prospect  of  my  acting 
as  an  incubus — an  actual  ghost — for  all  generations,  and 
to  be  called  *  a  father.'  I  take  no  such  responsibility  on 
myself  All  I  Avish  is  to  help  the  present  as  our  fathers 
helped  our  past,  and  as  I  hope  our  grandchildren  will 
help  our  future.  Let  us  have  no  more  appeals  to  the 
fathers,  but  look  at  the  question  iH  the  light  of  common 
sense. 

"  You  speak  of  the  fathers  of  the  Church,  but  I  go  back 
to  a  true  father  of  the  Church — the  Apostle  Paul.  I  do 
not  know  what  he  would  think  if  he  were  nowadays  to  come 
amongst  us.  Would  he  not,  in  all  probability,  be  put  down 
as  a  latitudinarian  ?  I  fear  very  much  whether  some  of  us 
could  really  understand  a  man  who  became  a  Jew  to  the 
Jews,  and  a  Gentile  to  the  Gentiles,  not  for  the  love 
of  popularity,  which  was  what  he  most  thoroughly 
despised,  but  'that  he  might  gain  some.'  I  am  afraid 
there  are  some  among  us  who  would  not  comprehend  him 
if  he  said,  '  One  man  esteeraeth  one  day  above  another, 
anoih  'r  man  esteemeth  every  day  alike  ;  let  every  n  an  Vie 
persuaded  in  his  own  mind.'     They  would  be  unable  to 


1 82  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

comprehcncl  a  man  who  knew  from  God,  as  an  absolute 
certainty,  that  tliero  was  nothing  unclean,  but  could  vet 
have  the  grand  and  noble  charity  to  say,  'To  him  tliat 
thinkcth  if  unclean  to  him  it  is  unclean.'  I  ([in-stioti  if 
they  coulu  understand  a  man  wdio  could  say,  'The  kingdom 
of  God  is  not  meat  and  drink,  but  righteousness  and  peace, 
and  joy  in  the  Holy  Ghost;'  and  'he  that  serveth  Christ 
in  these  things  is  acceptable  to  God  and  approved  of  men.' 
I  do  not  know  whether  Paul  would  have  made  all  the  office- 
bearers sign  the  Confession  of  Faith — Pha^be,  the  dea- 
coness, for  example — but  I  am  sure  of  this,  that  he  of  all 
the  fathers  of  the  Church  that  ever  lived,  not  only  in  his 
preaching  but  his  life,  carried  out  the  old  adage,  '  In  things 
essential,  unity  ;  in  things  indifferent,  liberty;  in  all  things, 
charity.'  Now  it  is  this  spirit  which  should  guide  the 
Church  of  Scotland  ;  and  I  think  that  much  of  our  secta- 
rianism might  have  been  prevented  if  we  had  had  a  little 
more  consideration  for  the  feelings  and  opinions  of  others, 
and  if,  instead  of  digging  a  ditcli  round  us,  and  bracrQ'insr 
how  much  we  differed  from  every  other  Church  on  earth, 
we  had  made  a  few  more  bridges,  and  had  shown  a  little 
more  catholic  feeling  towards  other  Churches  on  earth  ;  if, 
instead  of  looking  to  our  individual  selves,  we  had  looked 
more  to  the  feelings  and  opinions  of  the  country.  For  the 
very  genius  of  our  National  Church  ought,  in  my  opinion, 
to  be  inclusiveness,  as  far  as  possible,  and  not  exclusiveness. 

" I  think,  as  a  Church,  we  ought,  with  the 

other  Presbyterian  Churches  in  this  country,  to  hold  firm 
by  our  historical  past,  for  all  that  is  great  and  good  in  a 
nation  has  its  root  in  the  past.  Let  us  hold  fast  by  that 
which  is  good  in  the  past ;  and  as  our  system  of  Pres- 
bytery is  good,  let  us  hold  fixst  by  its  form  of  government. 
And  in  reference  to  that  I  beg  to  say,  in  passing,  that  there 
never  was  a  greater  delusion  than  to  imagine  that  the  wish 
to  have  an  organ,  or  a  more  cultivated  form  of  worship, 
has  anything  to  do  with  Episcopacy.  So  far  from  this,  I 
believe  these  improvements  will  serve  to  keep  back  Epis- 
copacy; and,  under  any  circumstances,  I  make  bold  to  sav, 
as  a  minister  of  the  National  Church  of  Scotland,  that  T 
think  it  is  my  duty,  as  well  as  in  accordance  with  my  feel- 


1 86+— 6s.  183 

injs,  to  stretch  out  a  kind  hand  to  every  Scotchman,  and, 
if  I  could,  a  kind  and  protecting  hand  to  every  Church  in 
this  kingdom. 

"  I  say,  further,  let  us  hold  fast  and  firm  by  our  Con- 
fession of  Faith.  But  I  really  wish  that  gentlemen  would 
feel  the  delicacy  of  these  questions  of  tests  and  signatures, 
and  not  be  perpetually  dragging  up  this  subject.  I  do  not 
know  at  this  moment  any  one  question  that  requires  liner 
handling,  so  to  speak. 

"  I  desire  to  see  retained  our  whole  Confession  of  Faith 
as  the  expression  of  the  Church's  faith  in  the  past  and  in 
the  present.  But  do  not  let  us  be  the  Church  of  the  past 
merely,  let  us  also  be  the  Church  of  the  present  and  the 
Church  of  the  future  ;  and  this  I  will  boldly  maintain, 
that  Ave  are  the  freest  Church  at  this  moment  in  Scot- 
land. I  think  honestly  we  are.  I  Imow  our  respected 
brethren  who  left  us  do  not  repent  doing  so,  and  that 
there  is  not  a  step  they  have  taken  which  they  would 
not  honestly  and  calmly  take  again.  But  I  say  also, 
neither  do  I  repent  for  a  moment  the  position  I  have  occu- 
pied, but  would  calmly  give  over  again  every  vote  I  have 
given,  and  take  again  every  step  I  have  taken.  I  believe 
that  God  is  over-ruling  all  this  for,  perhaps,  a  higher  good 
than  we  are  looking  to.  But,  as  an  Established  Church, 
we  are  limited  by  a  Constitution — a  noble  Constitution — • 
which  secures  us  freedom,  because  giving  us  security  at 
once  against  the  tyranny  of  the  State  and  the  tyranny  of 
the  clergy ;  and  within  the  limits  of  the  Constitution  we 
have  freedom  at  this  moment  to  examine  all  questions 
brought  before  us,  and  to  express  our  judgment  upon 
them,  moulding  the  Church  to  meet  the  wants  of  the 
country  as  it  now  is.  It  is  on  the  broad  ground  of  our 
calling  as  a  National  Church,  and  the  liberty  we  have  as  a 
National  Church,  that  I  would  desire  to  entertain  with  kind- 
ness and  thoughtfulness  all  these  questions  when  we  are 
desired  by  any  portion  of  the  people  to  do  so." 


i8+  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  JoUBNAL : — 

"  The  Assembly  of  '(jo  is  over.  One  of  the  most 
reactiouaiy  since  '43. 

"  The  one  groat  evil  I  see  in  both  Assemblies,  and  more 
especially  in  that  of  the  Free  Church,  is  not  so  much  any 
decision  they  nii.y  have  come  to  on  such  a  (juestion  as 
organs,  Avhich  is  an  odd  one  in  the  nineteenth  century, 
as  th(^  s[)irit  of  both. 

•'  There  is  too  little  freedom  to  speak  in  sober  truth 
against  anything  which  the  majority  approves  of.  There 
are  su^[iicious  whisperings,  up  to  the  howls  of  an  *  orthodox' 
(help  the  mark!)  brass  band,  against  any  man  who  pre- 
sumes to  question,  doubt,  or  differ  regarding  non-essentials. 
Young  men  are  terrified  lest  they  should  be  considered 
'  dangerous,'  '  doubtful,'  '  broad,'  '  latitudinarian,'  '  liberal,' 
'  not  safe.'  And  so  men  who  think  little  on  public  ques- 
tions, by  simply  hissing  and  crying  '  Vote,  vote,'  easily  and 
without  sacrifice  get  a  reputation,  where  a  true  man  with 
some  fair  and  honest  doubt  on  certain  matters  is  despised. 
The  great  snare  to  weak  consciences  in  the  present  da}-  is 
not  the  world  so  much  as  the  Church,  so  called.  A  refor- 
mation of  any  kind  appears  to  me  more  and  more  super- 
natural. 

"  But  Mrs.  Partington  cannot  sweep  the  ocean  back." 

To  J.  A.  Campbell,  Esq. : — 

"  I  have  been  at  Loudoun,  my  first  parish.  How  I 
mourned  the  contrast  between  my  work  as  a  parish  minister 
now  and  then  !  God  has  given  me  other  things  to  do,  and 
so  I  must  accept  of  them.  But  any  good  results  from  whole- 
sale public  work  can  only  be  anticipated  by  faith,  while 
the  personal  work  of  tlie  minister,  the  house  to  house,  face 
to  face,  heart  to  heart  work,  is  a  present,  immediate,  and 
sure  reward.  Few  things  amaze  me  more  than  the  tole- 
rance of  my  present  fllock.  I  comfort  myself  hy  believing 
that  God,  who  knows  all  the  outs  and  his  between  us,  has 
in  mercy  spared  me  the  pain  of  seeing  them  distrusting 
me  an<l  leaving  me.  Had  they  done  so,  I  would  at  once 
have  given  up  everything  else,  shut  off  all   public  work, 


1864 — 65.  i8s 

and  fallen  back  on  the  pastoral.      It  needs  all  my  fialtli  not 
to  become  peevish  and  miserable  with  myself. 

"  I  had  a  long  call  from  David  Livingstone  last  week. 
A  Yankee  parson  was  in  the  drawing-room,  and  hearing 
how  I  was  euo^aofed,  insisted  on  being  introduced.  He 
came  down,  shook  hands  with  Livingstone,  saying,  '  Sir— 
I  have  heard  of  you  ! '  " 

His  Journal  contains  a  deeply  interesting  account 
of  the  interviews  he  had  with  Dr.  Pritchard,  while 
this  notorious  criminal  was  lying  under  sentence  of 
death  for  poisoning  his  wife  and  mother-in-law ;  but 
the  same  motives  of  regard  for  the  feelings  of  re- 
latives which  enjoined  silence  at  the  time,  still  exist 
to  enforce  reserve  on  this  painful  subject. 

To  Mrs.  Macleod  : — 

"  Friday. — Please  do  not  excite  yourself  when  you  see 
by  the  papers  that  I  have  been  with  Pritchard  to  the 
last.  I  thought  it  rather  cowardly  to  let  Oldham  do  this 
work  alone  when  we  had  shared  the  previous  portion  of  it. 
So  I  offered  to  go,  and  I  am  glad  I  did.  I  saw  it  all  from 
first  to  last ;  was  with  him  in  his  cell,  and  Avalked  at  his 
back  till  he  reached  the  scaffold.  As  to  his  behaviour, 
strange  to  say,  no  patriot  dying  for  his  country,  no  martyr 
dying  for  his  faith,  could  have  behaved  with  greater 
calmness,  dignity,  and  solemnity !  He  was  kind  and 
courteous  (as  he  always  was)  to  all.  Prayed  with  us  with 
apparent  deep  earnestness.  Told  Oldham  to  tell  his 
sister  that  he  repented  of  a  life  of  transgression,  was  glad 
the  second  confession  was  suppressed,  &c.  He  said  before 
the  magistrates,  with  a  low  bow  and  most  solemn  voice,  '  I 
acknowledge  the  justice  of  my  sentence.'  He  had  told 
those  about  him  on  leaving  his  cell,  '  I  w^ant  no  one  to 
support  me,'  and  so  he  marched  to  the  scaffold  with  a 
deadly  pale  face  but  erect  head,  as  if  he  marched  to  the 
sound  of  music      He  stood  upright  and  steady  as  a  bronze 


1 86  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

statue,  witli  tlio  cap  over  his  face  and  tlie  rope  round  liis 
neck.      When  the  drop  fell,  all  was  quiet. 

"  Marvellous  and  complex  character  ! 

"  Think  of  a  man  so  firm  as  to  say,  smiling,  to  Oldham, 
*  I  am  glad  you  have  come  with  your  gown  and  bands  !' 

"  I  am  for  ever  set  against  all  public  executions.  They 
brutalise  the  people,  and  have  no  more  meaning  to  them 
than  bull-baiting  or  a  gladiatorial  combat. 

"  And  then  the  fuss,  the  babble  and  foam  of  gossip, 
the  reporting  for  the  press,  &c.,  over  that  black  sea  of 
crime  and  death  ! 

"  Strange  to  say,  I  felt  no  excitement  whatever,  but 
calm  and  solemn.  I  gazed  at  him  while  praying  for  his 
poor  soul  till  the  last.  But  I  won't  indulge  in  sensation 
sketches.  ]\lay  God  forgive  all  my  poor  sinful  services, 
and  acce]:)t  of  me  and  mine  as  lost  sinners  redeemed 
throucrh  Jesus  Christ !  " 


Fnna  his  JOURNAL  : — 

"  My  church  was  shut  for  five  weeks  for  repair,  and  I 
went  with  my  family  to  Norwood. 

"  I  was  myself  depressed  as  the  re-action  from  previous 
work  and  horrors  (attending  Pritchard  in  his  cell) !  I  went 
for  a  week  to  Holland  with  my  friend  Strahan,  preached 
at  Kottcrdam,  toured  it  to  the  Hague,  Scheveling,  on  to 
Amsterdam,  Rotterdam,  home  via  Calais. 

"  The  worst  '  fairs '  I  have  seen  are  the  Glasgow  Fair 
and  the  Kcrmiss  at  Rotterdam — as  bad  for  vulgar  rioting 
and  drunkenness  as  the  Foresters'  Fete  at  the  Crystal 
Palace. 

"  I  preached  at 's  Baptist  chapel.  How  tremen- 
dously Maurice  and  his  school  have  told  on  the  Baptists ! 
The  ice  is  thawing,  and  the  water  is  freezing.  How  truth 
tells  at  last !  If  it  does  not  revolutionize  it  modifies.  It 
is  wonderful  to  think  how  much  '  Orthodoxy '  owes  to 
'  the  world '  and  to  '  Heterodoxy.'  What  a  practical 
difference  does  it  make  having  Christ,  not  any  logical 
theological  system,  as  the  object  of  our  faith  and  1  .)Vt  !  I 
remember  Norwood  with  gratitude  I  " 


j?h4. — 6;.  i37 

To  the  Eev.  W.  F.  Stevexson:  — 

FlTTNAliY,  Avijust  l:iih. 

"  I  am  alive — alive  to  the  glory  of  the  hills  and  to  the 
earth's  gravitation  as  I  try  to  ascend  their  summits — alixe 
to  the  critical  state  of  the  political  and  ecclesiastical  world; 
to  the  dangers  and  glories  of  the  Irish  revival ;  and  to 
many  other  things  I  should  like  to  have  a  chat  about. 

"  I  rejoice  to  hear  such  glad  tidings  about  Ireland  ! 
God  grant  wise  men  to  guide  events  !  I  don't  go  '  to  see 
the  Revival.'  I  fear  it  is  the  making  it  a  spectacle  which 
will  prove  its  greatest  danger.  By-and-by  I  may  run  over 
and  inquire  ai)out  results.  In  the  meantime  I  am  taking 
a  run  through  dear  old  places,  and  among  dear  old  friends. 
What  a  language  those  hills  and  seas  speak  to  me,  wlio 
have  been  coming  to  them  every  year  almost  since  child- 
hood !  Yet  how  many  hands  there  were  that  welcomed 
me  which  '  touch '  no  more.  How  many  voices  which 
w^ere  earth's  music  once,  that  sound  no  more  !  Here  life 
would  be  death  to  me,  unless  I  believed  death  was  life. 

"  I  preach  to-morrow,  having  Jowett  as  one  of  my 
hearers  " 


CHAPTEE  XYITI. 

SABBATH    CONTROVERSY. 

ASEEIES  of  public  dviinonstrations  had  taken 
place  a<^ainst  the  running  of  Sunday  trains  and 
other  forms  of  Sabbath  desecration,  and  the  Presbytery 
of  Glasgow,  to  give  effect  to  these  expressions  of 
popular  feeling,  prepared  a  Pastoral  letter,  to  be 
read  in  all  the  churches  within  its  jurisdiction. 
As  this  Letter  enforced  the  observance  of  the  Lord's- 
day  by  arguments  directly  opposed  to  the  teaching 
Dr.  Macleod  had  given  his  congregation  for  many 
years,  it  was  impossible  for  him  to  read  it  from 
the  pulpit  without  expressing  his  dissent.  He  there- 
fore felt  himself  bound  to  state  to  his  brethren  in  the 
Presbytery  the  grounds  on  which  he  differed  from 
their  judgment. 

He  believed  that  the  authority  of  the  Jewish 
Sabbath  was  an  insufficient,  unscriptural,  and  there- 
fore perilous  basis  on  which  to  rest  the  observance 
of  the  Lord's-day,  and  that  to  impose  regulations  as 
to  the  one  institution,  which  applied  only  to  the 
other,  must,  with  the  changing  conditions  of  society 
in  Scotland,  be  productive  of  greater  evils  in  her 
future  than  in  her  past  history.  In  proportion  to 
the     strict    enforcement    of    Sabbatarianism,     there 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  189 

would,  in  his  opinion,  be  multiplied  those  practical 
inconsistencies,  dishonesties,  and  Pharisaic  sophistries 
which  prove,  in  all  ages,  supremely  detrimental  to 
morality  and  religion.  It  was,  therefore^  with  the 
desire  of  vindicating  the  divine  sanctions  of  the 
Lord's-day,  as  distinct  from  the  Sabbath,  that  he 
addressed  the  Presbytery,  and,  in  doing  so,  he  antici- 
pated, with  a  deep  sense  of  responsibility,  the  peril 
he  must  incur  and  the  pain  his  views  were  certain 
to  inflict  on  many  of  his  countrymen. 

This  speech,  like  all  his  other  speeches,  was  not 
written  out,  but  given  from  short,  and  to  any  other 
eyes  than  his  own,  unintelligible  notes.  In  substance, 
however,  it  had  been  carefully  and  thoughtfully  pre- 
pared :  the  arguments  and  illustrations  were  clearly 
arranged,  but  the  mutilated  form  in  which,  unfor- 
tunately, it  first  appeared  in  the  newspapers  created 
an  impression  of  its  purport  which  was  calculated 
to  disturb  the  public  mind.  It  could  not  have  been 
expected  that  an  address  which,  though  rapidly 
spoken,  occupied  between  three  and  four  hours  in 
delivery,  would  be  fully  or  accurately  reported ;  but 
it  must  always  be  a  matter  of  regret  that  only  the 
destructive  part  of  the  argument,  which  came  first, 
was  communicated  through  the  press,  while  the  latter 
part,  enforcing  the  divine  obligation  of  the  Lord's- 
day,  was  omitted.  Had  the  public  been  better 
informed  from  the  first  as  to  the  true  character  of 
his  sentiments,  there  would  have  been  less  of  that 
painful  misunderstanding  and  excitement  which,  once 
raised,  is  so  difficult  to  allay.* 

*  That  this  was   the   case    was  evident  from   the  effect  produced 
when  he  afterwards  published  the  substance  of  the  speech. 


1 90  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

As  it  was,  the  outburst  of  popular  feeling  was 
amazing.  Ilis  views  were  not  really  startling,  for 
they  were  common  to  perhaps  a  majority  of  the  best 
theologian^  of  the  Reformed  Churches.*  Yet,  if  the 
speaker  had  renounced  Christianity  itself,  he  could 
scarcely  have  produced  a  greater  sensation.  He 
became  not  only  an  object  of  suspicion  and  dislike  to 
the  unthinking  and  fanatical,  but  he  was  mourned 
over  by  many  really  good  men  as  one  who  had 
become  an  enemy  to  the  truth.  His  table  was  loaded 
with  letters  remonstrating  with  him,  abusing  him, 
denouncing,  cursing  him.  Ministers  of  the  Gospel 
passed  him  without  recognition;  one  of  these,  more 
zealous  than  the  rest,  hissed  him  in  the  street.  During 
the  first  phase  of  this  agitation  he  felt  acutely  the 
loneliness  of  his  position  : — 

"  I  felt  at  first  so  utterly  cut  off  from  every  Cliristinn 
brother  that,  had  a  chimney-sweep  given  me  his  sooty 
hand,  and  smiled  on  me  with  his  black  face,  I  would  have 
welcomed  his  salute  and  blessed  him.  Men  apologisid 
for  having  been  seen  in  my  company.  An  eminent 
minister  of  the  Free  Church  refused  to  preach  in  a  United 
Presbyterian  pulpit  in  which  I  was  to  preach  the  same  day. 
Orators  harangued  against  me  in  City  Hall  and  Merchants' 
Hall.  The  empty  drums  rattled  and  the  brazen  trumpets 
blew  '  certain  sounds '  in  every  village.  '  Leave  the 
Church  ! '  '  Libel  him  ! '  were  the  brotherly  advices  given. 
Money  was  subscribed  to  build  a  Free  Barony  Church ;  and 
a  Free  Church  mission  house  was  opened  beside  mine 
('  though  having  no  reference  to  me '  as  it  was  said  !). 
Caricatures  were  displayed  in  every  shop  window." 

The  condition  of  religion  in  the  country  which  this 
tide  of  bitterness  revealed    burdened  him  with  sor- 

•  For  a  Cntona  of  aiithorities  on  this  .'^iilijrct,  sie  "The  liitcratiira 
of  tbo  Sabbath  Questiou,"  by  liobt-rt  Cox,  F.S.A. 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  191 

row.  In  one  sense  lie  never  enjoyed  greater  peace  oi 
spirit,  nor  was  he  once  tempted  to  waver  in  his  resolu- 
tion ;  but  he  felt  so  keenly  the  prevalence  of  intole- 
rance and  injustice  under  the  cloak  of  zeal,  that  all 
who  saw  him  during  these  three  weeks  were  struck 
by  his  chastened  and  sad  aspect.  There  were  some 
consolations,  however,  mingled  with  the  grief.  The 
Presbytery  acted  with  marked  courtesy,  and  con- 
ducted the  discussions  in  a  spirit  of  the  most  friendly 
consideration.  '  They  were  very  kind,  and  did  not 
utter  a  harsh  word.  I  did  not  retract  a  syllable ; 
nor  was  I  asked  to  do  so.'  The  Kirk-session  of  the 
Earony  cheered  him  by  presenting  an  address  expres- 
sive of  their  unshaken  confidence,  and  his  congre- 
gation to  a  man  remained  loyal.  The  hope  that  good 
would  result  from  the  controversy  gradually  pre- 
vailed over  other  feelings. 

"  '  The  smaller  question,'  he  writes,  '  is  fast  merging 
into  the  higher  one,  of  whether  we  are  to  gain  a  larger 
measure  of  ministerial  liberty  in  interpreting  those  points 
in  our  Confession  which  do  not  touch  the  essentials  of  the 
Christian  faith.  If  the  Assembly  passes  without  my  being 
libelled,  I  shall  have  gained  for  the  Established  Church, 
and  at  the  risk  of  my  ecclesiastical  life,  freedom  in  alliance 
with  law,  and  for  this  I  shall  thank  God.  But  should  they 
drive  me  out,  that  day  will  see  national  evangelical  liberty 
driven  out  for  many  a  day  from  the  dear  old  Church." 

An  act  of  tolerance  on  the  part  of  the  Church  in 
his  case  would  afford  a  practical  solution  to  some  of 
the  difficulties  connected  with  subscription ;  it  would 
indicate  the  light  in  which  she  wished  her  standards 
to  be  regarded.  '  The  Confession,  when  read  like 
the   Bible  by   the  light  of  the  Spirit,  will  then  not 


192  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

be  an  obscuration  but  a  transparency  through  wbich 
eternal  truth  is  seen.'  Some  measure  of  liberty  in 
this  direction,  among  other  benefits,  was,  he  believed, 
gained  for  the  Church  by  the  stand  he  now  took. 

While  recording  the  sadder  aspects  of  this  trying 
period,  it  is  well  to  remember  that  the  suddenness 
of  the  excitement  raised  against  him  was  not  more 
remarkable  than  the  rapidity  with  which  it  dis- 
appeared. If  it  is  painful  to  recall  misunderstandings 
and  alienations,  it  is  refreshing  to  bear  in  mind  how 
soon  all  seemed  forgotten  in  the  confidence  with 
which  his  own  Church  honoured  him,  and  which  was 
also  accorded  by  the  other  Churches  of  the  land. 

To  his  sister  Jane  : — 

November  19th,  18G5. 

**  God,  I  solemnly  believe,  has  given  me  a  great  work  to 
do,  and  I  have  accepted  it,  keenly  alive — if  possible,  toe 
keenly  alive — to  my  responsibility — to  the  privilege  I  enjoy 
in  the  discharge  of  a  great  duty,  and  to  the  son-ows  and 
sufferings  which  it  involves,  j)erhaps  for  life.  I  see  the 
truth  like  light,  but  that  same  light  reveals  the  rough  path 
that  is  before  me.  I  don't  ask  you  to  pass  any  opinion 
on  what  I  have  said  till  you  see  my  speech  in  full  when 
published.  I  don't  expect  you  even  then  to  agree  with  it 
at  once. 

"  Oh  dear,  pray  that  I  may  be  kept  in  peace  and  with  a 
sincrle  eve  and  brave  heart !  " 


Letter  to  Eev.  George  Gabdenee,  Aunan  : — 

Glasgow,  Novemher  l^th,  1865. 

"  I  return  you  my  hearty  thanks  for  your  note  just 
received,  and  I  attach  the  more  value  to  your  Cliristian 
sympathy  from  the  fact  that  it  is  the  first  of  the  kinJ 
which  I  have  received. 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  193 

« I  have  not  entered  on  this  Avar— only  beginning— 
without  much  thought,  earnest  prayer,  and  a  very  solemn 
sense  of  my  responsibility,  whether  I  speak  or  keep  silence. 
The  more  I  '  mused '  on  the  state  of  religion  and  parties  in 
Scotland,  the  more  has  the  '  fire  burned  '  in  ray  very  bones, 
until  I  could  not,  dared  not  but  utter  what,  so  far  as  I  can 
judge,  God  has  given  me  to  utter.      But  I  feel  in  my  inmost 
heart  the  burden  which  I  must  carry  for  many  a  day,  pro- 
bably for  life.      I  could  escape  this  kind  of  burden   by 
silence  or  by  flight,  and  the  flesh  has  often  cried  out  in 
this  and  in  other  conflicts  which  in  Providence  I  have  been 
called  to  fight,  '  Oh,  that  I  had  the   wings  of  a  dove,'  to 
fly  to  some  hut  in  the  wilderness,  in  some  lonely  glen,  that 
I  might  be  at  rest.      But  then  would  come  other  burdens 
which  I   could   not   carry,    which   would    crush   me — the 
burden  of  a  bad  conscience,  of  a  selfish,  cowardly  spirit,  of 
a  false  heart  to  man,  and  therefore  to  God.      With  truth  I 
can  dare  to  meet  bad  men  and  devils,  and,  what  is  worse, 
good  dear  brethren  sincerely  believing  I  am  wrong,  and 
grieving  for  ree — which  is  to  me  a  seething  in  my  mother's 
milk  ;  but  with  conscious  untruth  in  any  shape  or  form,  I 
could  not  meet  myself  without  fear  and  shame,  far  less  my 
God.     Yet  with  all  this,  do  not  think  me  suffering  aught 
but  noble  pains,  such  as  I  welcome,  like  the  cross,  as  God's 
great  gift.     I  enjoy  perfect  peace.      I  have  blessed  freedom 
and  peace  in  opening  my  whole  heart  and  ways  to  Christ, 
for  He  understands  our  thoughts,  will  deiver  us  from  evil, 
and  lead  us  and  all  who  seek  Him  into  truth  in  the  end. 

"  St.  Paul  in  his  Epistles  and  spirit  is  more  than  ever 
clear  and  dear  to  me.  As  soldiers  cried  once,  *  Oh,  for  one 
day  of  Dundee  ! '  so  do  I  feel  disposed  to  cry,  '  Oh,  for 
one  day  of  Paul ! "  How  he  would  puzzle  and  astonish 
and  possibly  pain  our  Churches,  ay,  us  all,  for  he  is  far  in 
advance  of  us  all  yet !  But  as  Max  Piccolomini,  when 
wishing  for  an  angel  to  show  him  the  true  and  good, 
said,  why  should  he  wish  this  when  he  had  his  noble 
Theida  with  him  to  speak  what  he  felt  ;  so  much  more 
surely  you  and  I  and  all  who  seek  the  truth  may  have 
peace,  with  the  loving,  patient,  and  wise  Spirit  and  Guide, 
who  will  search  us  and  lead  us  into  all  ti-uth ' 
VOL.    II.  O 


194  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  Some  think  I  am  leading  a  forlorn  hope.  Bo  it  so. 
Then  men  will  enter  tlie  citadel  over  my  di-ad  body,  and 
perhaps  bury  me  with  funeral  honours  when  I  am  enjoying 
rest  elsewhere. 

"  As  to  consequences,  I  have  nothing  to  do  with  tliem. 
I  have  faith  in  Christ  as  the  Head  of  the  Church  and  of  the 
world.  It  is  enough  that  I  have  to  do  with  right  and 
wrong.  To  know  that — to  obsen'e  that — to  measure  the 
real  angle,  and  let  the  two  sides  be  prolonged,  if  so  be,  ad 
ivjinitmn,  that  alone  absorbs  all  my  thoughts,  demands  all 
my  strength,  calls  forth  all  my  prayers,  demands  all  my 
faith.  If  I  am  Avrong,  may  God  in  his  infinite  mercy 
destroy  all  my  works,  saving  my  soul  that  trusts  Him,  even 
as  it  were  by  fire  ! 

"  The  battle  is  but  beginning.  It  will  pass  over  to  the 
more  difficult  and  more  trying  one  of  the  relation  of  Con- 
fessions to  the  Church,  its  members  and  ministers.  AVho 
will  abide  this  sifting  ?  I  think  I  have  light  on  this  too, 
and  may  be  helpful  to  many  a  perplexed  mind  when  the 
battle  comes.  If  I  am  to  be  made  the  occasion  of  its  being 
fousfht,  amen !  It  is  God's  will.  But  sufficient  for  the 
day  is  both  its  evil  and  God's  grace. 

"  I  am  going  to  print  my  speech  in  full.  I  would  have 
spoken  four  hours  had  time  been  given.  Much  was  unsaid 
and  much  said  of  vast  importance  which  Avas  not  reported. 

"  Thank  God,  the  debate  was  conducted  in  the  most 
fair  and  kind  spirit.  iMy  whole  feeling  towards  all  who 
differ  is  an  earnest  desire  that  they  may  see  the  truth — 
Churches  above  all  ;  for  what  can  I  do  for  those  who 
neither  love  Christ  nor  would  have  a  holy,  blessed  Lord's 
Day. 

"  Pray  for  me  ; — yes,  do  in  faith — that  I  may  be  kept 
calm,  peaceful,  simple,  sincere  ;  and  that  in  mercy  to  myself 
and  others  I  may  be  kept,  if  need  be  by  sickness  even, 
from  injuring  Christ's  cause,  and  be  led  into  all  truth,  that 
men  may  glorify  Christ  in  me,  but  not  glorify  me,  which 
would  be  a  poor  idolatry. 

"  I  remain,  your  brother  in  the  best  of  bonds." 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  19: 

A    BATTLE-CRY   TO   MY   FRIEND    AND    FELLOW-SOLDIER, 
PRINCIPAL    TULLOCH.* 

Brother  !  up  to  tlie  breach 
For  Christ's  freedom  and  truth, 
Let  us  act  as  we  teach, 
With  the  wisdom  of  age  and  the  vigour  of  youth. 
Heed  not  their  cannon-balls, 
Ask  not  who  stands  or  falls. 

Grasp  the  sword 

Of  the  Lord, 

And  Forward ! 

Brother  !  strong  in  the  faith 
That  '  the  ris^ht  will  come  rifdit,* 
Never  tremble  at  death, 
Never  think  of  thyself  'mid  the  roar  of  the  fight.    . 
Hark  to  the  battle-cry, 
Sounding  from  yonder  sky  I 

Grasp  the  sword 

Of  the  Lord, 

And  Forward  ! 

Brother  !  sing  a  loud  Psalm, 
Our  hope's  not  forlorn  ! 
After  storm  comes  the  calm, 
After  darkness  and  twilight  breaks  forth  the  new  morn. 
Let  the  mad  foe  get  madder. 
Never  quail  !  up  the  ladder  1 

Grasp  the  sword 

Of  the  Lord, 

And  Forward  ! 

Brother  !  up  to  the  breach. 
For  Christ's  freedom  and  truth. 
If  we  live  we  shall  teach, 
With  the  strong  faith  of  age  and  tlie  bright  hope  of  youth. 

*  Principal   Tullocli  had  just  delivered  a  stirring  address  on  the 
question  of  Creeds 

0   2 


xqb  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

If  we  perish,  then  o'er  us 
Will  ring  the  loud  chorus, 

Grasp  the  sword 

Of  the  Lord, 

And  Follow  ! 

To  the  late  Dr.  Egbert  I.ke  : — 

"  This  is  a  terrible  hurricane,  but  I  have  a  stout  heart, 
a  good  ship,  light  to  steer  by,  and,  thank  God !  a  con- 
science kept  in  perfect  peace. 

"  If  ever  there  was  a  time  in  our  history  when  we 
should  be  wise,  prudent,  brotherly,  and  brave — it  is  now." 

From  hi.s  JouRXAL  : — 

"■Last  Sunday  of  'Go. — I  will  not  anticipate  the  future, 
it  is  amply  sufficient  to  know  our  dear  God  and  Father 
is  with  us  all,  and  our  own  brother  Jesus  Christ.  With 
heart,  soul,  and  strength,  I  give  glory  for  all  the  past,  and 
commit  all  to  the  blessed  Trinity  for  the  future  without 
any  fear,  not  a  shadow,  but  in  perfect  peace,  and  with  but 
one  prayer  from  the  depth  of  my  heart  that  we  all  may 
know  God's  will — that  we  all  may  be  enabled  to  cling  to  a 
living  personal  Saviour ;  that  is  to  live  truly  to  God  and 
man,  and  so  to  live  peacefully,  joyously,  and,  of  course, 
obediently,  as  love  is  a  law  to  itself. 

"  I  cannot  in  this  rough  and  rapid  way  atten-qit  to 
describe  the  origin  and  history  of  the  '  Sabbath  question,' 
which  is  becoming  in  God's  providence  a  national  one.  It 
hooks  on  to  so  many  topics,  it  is  so  connected  with  the 
past  history  and  present  state  of  theological  opinion  in 
Scotland,  that  it  would  demand  a  volume. 

"  This  I  wish  to  record,  that  never  in  my  whole  life  have 
I  experienced  so  much  real,  deep  sorrow,  never  so  tasted 
the  bitter  cup  of  the  enmity,  susiHcion,  injustice,  and  hate 
of  the  ministers  and  members  of  the  Christian  Church. 
Oh  !  it  was  awful  ;  it  gave  me  such  an  insight  into  the 
sufferings  of  Jesus  from  man's  hate  and  suspicion  (even 
though  conscientiously  entertained),  such  as  I  never  before 
conceived  of,  and   made  me  understand  St.  Paul  and  the 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  197 

Judaizers.  But  yet  never  in  my  life  did  I  experience 
such  deep  peace,  such  real,  overwhelming  joy.  I  record 
this  for  it  is  true.  I  was  kept  not  only  from  hard,  l)itter 
words,  as  my  speech  and  pamphlet  testify,  Ijut  from  bitter 
feelings  or  wishes,  and  with  most  loving  desires  for  their 
good.  I  am  naturally  hot,  ardent,  vehement,  satirical  ; 
but  all  this  passed  away,  may  it  keep  away  !  This  was 
God's  doing, 

"  In  the  meantime  I  close  this  volume  of  my  secret  life 
with  praise  to  God,  and  unutterable  thanksgiving.  If 
another  like  it  is  ended  near  the  end  of  my  life,  I  know 
I  shall  express  the  same  sentiments  with  a  deeper  sense 
of  their  truth. 

"  I  have  around  me  to-night  all  my  family,  and  this 
after  fifty  years ! 

"  T.  e.  A. — T.  e.  A. — Amen  and  AmeUc" 


To  his  sister  Jane  ;— • 

Fehruartj  9th,  1866. 

"  Injustice,  intolerance,  misrepresentation,  sneakiness, 
make  me  half-mad ;  but  the  more  need  of  silence, 
patience,  prayer,  and  the  reaching  upwards  into  that  deep 
personal  fellowship  with  the  Son,  out  of  which  alone  can 
come  to  me  a  share  of  His  brotlierly  love  to  all.  Oh, 
it  is  a  heaven  of  peace  and  splendour,  a  pure  refined 
atmosphere,  which  seems  too  far  off  for  me  to  reach  and 
breathe !  Yet  there  is  something  ennobling  in  the 
attempt,  and  in  realising  a  living  Christ  with  all  power  by 
His  Spirit  to  produce  it.  I  have  fitful  gleams  of  it,  which 
assure  me  it  exists,  and  for  me  too  as  well  as  for  others. 
But  there  is  a  fire  in  my  bones  which  won't,  I  fear,  g<>  out 
except  under  the  pressure  of  Mother  Earth.  Then  tljank 
God,  it  will,  and  I  shall  know  even  as  I  am  known." 

From,  his  JoTJHNAL : — 

"I  was  asked  by  the  Queen  to  visit  her  at  Osborne 
during  the  holidays.  I  went  there  on  Monday,  2nd 
January. 


198  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  The  Queon,  with  most  condescending  kindness,  com- 
manded me  to  plant  a  tree  in  memory  of  my  visit. 

"I  left  after  dinner,  late  on  Thursday  night,  l>y  tho 
yacht  for  Portsmouth.  The  old  coxswain  was  a  member 
of  the  Gaelic  Church  in  Campbeltown  in  my  father's 
time. 

"  Tho  more  I  calmly  revise  these  past  weeks  the  more 
I  believe  that  I  have  done  what  was  right.  I  do  not  say 
that  my  brethren  who  have  opposed  me  have  done  wrong. 
We  may,  I  hope,  be  both,  according  to  our  light,  building 
each  a  portion  of  the  wall  of  Jerusalem,  though  on  op[)osi,to 
sides. 

"  But  the  awful  conviction  is  deeply  pressing  itself  upon 
me,  that  the  gospel  is  not  preached  generally  in  Scotland, 
that  so  called  '  Evangelicalism  '  is  Judaism  ;  that  the  name 
of  God,  Father,  Son,  and  Spirit  which  is  Love,  is  not 
revealed,  but  concealed  ;  that  it  is  not  a  gospel  of  glad- 
tidings,  but  of  lamentation  and  woe  ;  that  it  is  not  a  Gospel 
of  good-will  to  man,  but  to  a  favoured  few  who  'sit  under' 
this  or  that  man. 

"  Thank  God  I  am  free,  never  more  shall  I  be  tram- 
melled by  what  partisan  Christians  think.  One  Master, 
Christ  and  His  Word,  shall  alone  guide  me,  and  speak  I 
will  when  duty  calls,  come  what  may.  I  will  return 
their  adverse  feeling  to  me,  by  seeking  to  set  them  free. 
If  the  Church  of  Scotland  but  knew  the  day  of  her 
visitation  she  Avould  rejoice  in  what  has  happened." 

To  Dr.  CnARTERis : — 

"  I  write  to  you  as  a  friend,  and  most  of  all  as  being 
able  to  see  farther  and  more  independently  than  some  of 
our  so-called  leaders. 

" A  conference  !    If  we  are  to  have  conferences, 

surely  there  could  very  easily  be  found  subjects  of  discus- 
sion of  more  consequence  to  the  Church  and  to  Glasgow 
than  this.  But  it  has  always  been  thus  with  hyper- 
orthodox  clergy,  straining  at  gnats  and  swallowing  camels. 

"  Conference  !  and  all  because  I  don't  find  the  whole 
moral  law  in  the  ten  commandments,  or  Ijecause  I  think 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  199 

the  Decalosfue  a  covenant  with  Israel,  and  as  such  not 
binding  on  us,  and  base  the  Lord's-day  on  Christ  and  not 
on  Moses,  and  find  His  teaching  a  sufficient  rule  of  life 
without  the  Mosaic  covenant  !  Conference  !  If  it  were 
not  my  resolution  to  breed  no  disturbance  or  carry  on  the 
agitation,  I  am  ready  to  fight  the  whole  army  of  them  on 
every  point !" 

To  the  Same  : — ■ 

March  20th,  1866. 

"  God  knows  how  truly  I  feel  with  and  for  my  brethren, 
and  would  do  everything  possible  to  relieve  them  from  the 
difficulty  in  which  they  feel  themselves  placed.  I  am 
bound  even  to  help  them  to  do  their  duty,  though  in  their 
doing  so  I  may  myself  suffer.  I  wish  to  save  my  truth 
and  honour  only. 

"  I  had  a  weary  but  good  time  in  the  South.  In  eight 
days  I  preached  six  sermons,  and  spoke  at  seven  meetings. 
Each  one  hour  and  a  half  at  least.  There  is  some  life  in 
the  old  dog  yet  I" 


From  his  Journal  : — 

"  I  am  almost  afraid  to  record  my  impressions  of  what 
has  been  to  me  the  great  event  of  this  winter,  and  perhaps 
of  my  life,  'Jie  discussion  of  the  '  SabV)ath  question.' 
Though  its  very  memory  will  pass  away  like  one  of  ten 
thousand  things  which  have  more  or  less,  for  good  or 
evil,  affected  our  Church  or  even  national  history,  yet 
surely  some  importance  must,  without  exaggeration,  be 
attached  to  a  question  I  was  the  occasion  of  raising,  which 
nas  been  discussed  in  every  newspaper  in  Scotland,  and 
in,  I  presume  to  sa}',  every  pulpit,  which  has  led  to 
articles  in  almost  every  magazine  in  the  habit  of  discussing 
such  points — in  the  Contemporary,  Fortnightly,  Saturday, 
Spectator,  &c.,  &c.,  &c.,  and  has  induced  Dr.  Hessey  to 
bring  out  a  new  edition  of  his  lectures.*     The  furor  has 

*  Among  the  many  curious  letters  he  received  during  this  time, 
there  is  one  containing  the  following    description  of  a  •  holy  cat.* 


200  LI  I  K  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

passed  into  the  colonies,  and  divided  opinion  there  as  well 
as  here.  Belx^ld  what  a  great  matter  a  little  spark  kindleth  ! 
Tlie  great  inattrr  (as  it  has  since  been  proved)  was  the 
combustihle  state  of  the  public  mind  from  ultra  and  almost 
mroler.ible  Sabbatarianism.  My  speech,  delivered  with  no 
other  tlioiinlit  than  the  discharge  of  to  me  a  clear  and 
necessary  duty,  was  the  little  spark.  The  excitement  it 
has  created  has  l>ecn  unparalleled  since  '43. 

"  One  would  have  to  read  the  newspapers  I  have 
colh'ctiMl  to  comprehend  the  fury  of  the  attack.  Men 
from  evM'rv  pulpit  and  through  the  daily  press  seemed  to 
gnasli  tluir  teeth  on  me. 

"  And  all  for  what  ?  My  speech  is  my  reply.  The 
charges    which    were    chietly    made     against    me    were — 

Dr.  ?>racl('0(l  scut  for  thn  writer,  iind  lo.irned  from  him  the  remarkable 
history  of  himself  and  his  cats. 

Deak  Sni 

'•  1  iiiii  ,yoing  to  lell  ynii  a  small  skitch  about  two  cats  I  had  in 
my  time  one  of  th(  m  w.is  ii  ihief  and  a  Saba'^h  Breaker  the  other  was 
Hi'nost  and  kept  the  Sabath  in  1845  i  think  I  left  Glasgow  for  Skj-e 
where  I  behjug  to  my  father  hud  a  small  farm  I  was  nine  years  there 
every  one  kent  abont  the  Botntoe  failure  there  in  one  of  these  years 
my  fath  r  parted  this  lif  in  23  May  My  mother  on  12th  Agust  my  wife 
1st  Jany  ^arae  year  leaving  me  with  five  young  children  the  oldest 
between  ten  ami  eleven  years  old  the  youngest  a  smart  Boj'  this  day 
never  snw  u  mother  yet  I  sent  the  child  to  nurs  at  \os  a  month  I  kept 
v.'itli  them  for  two  years  fighting  between  death  and  life  at  last  on  the 
brink  of  starving  I  told  them  ac  last  that  I  would  have  to  leave  them 
that  if  possible  I  would  send  som  suport  from  Glasge  I  got  eight  shil- 
lings for  som  straw  I  had  I  left  them  one  shilly  and  7  to  pay  the  boat 
1h(\v  waited  for  the  steamboat  on  Saterday  until  late  but  no  relief  on 
Saterdaj'  night  they  went  home  and  slept  till  late  on  Sunday  when 
they  got  U]>  they  weie  without  a  morsel  of  meat  a  sure  of  rain  came 
on  the  old  las  went  out  and  told  her  sister  to  go  with  her  and  gather 
some  >mall  botatoes  that  was  coming  in  sight  where  the  botatoes  wns 
planted  they  took  homo  a  small  I'ot  full  and  put  them  on  the  fire  I 
had  two  splendid  eats  mother  and  daughter  as  whit  as  snow  except  a 
iew  black  spots  on  the  tail  and  on  the  head  they  were  both  Standing 
to  the  fire  one  of  the  children  said  if  we  had  some  kitchen  now  with 
that  sm;ill  Pot  of  botatoes  we  would  bo  all  right  but  in  a  short  time 
one  of  the  cats  came  in  with  a  fi.-h  Liid  that  beside  the  fire  before  he 
hnltfd  ho  tok  in  a  fish  to  each  of  them  but  when  he  was  at  the  dor 
with  the  fifth  fish  the  holy  cat  that  stood  at  the  fire  all  the  time  would 
have  the  last  to  himself  I  think  it  should  be  given  to  the  publick  but 
you  are  the  best  Judjie." 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSIY  J 01 

1.  ThcU  I  gave  up  the  moral  law  (!)  when  I  merely 
denied  that  the  moral  law  and  the  ten  commandments 
were  identical,  and  asserted  that  the  moral  law  as  such 
Avas  eternal.  2.  That  I  did  away  tvith  the  Sabbath  when 
I  denied  that  the  Lord's-day  rested  as  its  divine  ground 
on  the  perpetual  obligation  of  the  fourth  commandment, 
but  endeavoured  to  prove  its  superior  glory  and  fitness  and 
blessedness  on  other  grounds.  3.  That  I  gave  up  the 
Decalogue  as  a  rule  of  life,  and  therefore  had  no  law  to 
guide  life,  when  I  denied  that  we  required  to  go  to  Moses 
for  a  rule,  having  Jesus  Christ,  and  that  the  gospel  was  not 
a  mere  rule,  but  a  principle,  even  life  itself  through  faith 
in  Christ,  and  in  the  possession  of  the  Spirit  of  life  which 
necessitates  obedience  to  moral  laAV  in  all  its  fulness  as 
recorded  in  Christ's  Sermon  on  the  Mount,  in  all  the 
Epistles,  and,  above  all,  as  revealed  and  embodied  in  His 
own  holy  life. 

"  The  controversy  soon  passed  into  the  greater  question 
regarding  the  relationship  of  the  law  of  Moses  and  law  as 
a  rule  of  life — '  Thou  shalt '  and  '  shalt  not,'  to  the  gospel 
'  Believe  and  live.'  And  I  am  persuaded  that  the  Sabbath 
controversy  will  more  and  more  reveal  the  intense  Judaism 
prevalent  in  Scotland,  and  by  the  Spirit's  teaching  lead 
more  to  the  seeing  of  Christ  as  the  Prophet  as  well  as  the 
Priest  and  the  King — '  Father,  glorify  Thy  Son  that  Thy 
Son  may  glorify  Thee  ! 

"  Another  question  of  immense  importance,  which  has 
grown  and  is  growing  out  of  this  discussion,  is  ministerial 
liberty  with  reference  to  non-essential  questions,  or  such  as 
do  not  touch  the  great  catholic  doctrines  or  the  vitals  of 
Christianity. 

"  This  question  was  fairly  put  before  the  last  meeting 
of  Presbytery. 

"  Prior  to  that  meeting  the  clerical  mind  had  been 
intensely  inflamed  in  certain  quarters  and  by  certain 
parties.  The  question  was  beginning  to  tell  on  the  union 
between  the  Free  Kirk  and  the  United  Presbyterian.  The 
more  intelligent  of  the  laity  were  more  and  more  becoming 
moderate  in  their  views  and  sympathizing  with  me.  I 
had  but  dared  to  express  in  a  coherent,  bold  fotm  what 


202  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

they  had  long  practically  felt.  Tliey  had  long  felt  unensv 
about  the  universal  declamations  from  platforai  and  pulpit 
about  '  Sabbath  desecration,'  as  it  is  called  by  those  wlio 
themselves  emjdoy  cabs  or  milk  carts,  &c.,  on  SaVibatli. 
No  voice  was  lifted  up  in  defence  of  fair  Cliristian  liberty 
except  by  so-called  secular  pa[)ers,  i.e.,  non-sectarian  or 
non-churcli  papers.  What  could  any  layman  do  ?  The 
clergy  had  it  all  their  own  way,  and  woe  be  to  the  man 
who  among  themselves  wouhl  dare  to  '  peep.'  If  he 
had  no  intluence,  he  would  soon  be  crushed  by  the 
evangelical  battering  rams.  If  he  had  any  intluence 
to  make  himself  heard,  that  inflijence  might  for  ever  be 
destroyed.  What  was  to  be  done  Avhen  I  spoke  ?  Could 
this  be  permitted  ?  If  either  of  the  other  Churclies  said 
Yes,  the  other  would  say  No,  and  so  the  union  would  end. 
If  both  were  silent,  the  ignorant  and  conscientious,  drilled 
by  their  clergy  from  infancy  in  Sal)batarianism,  would  force 
them  to  speak  out.  If  both  would  say  No,  then  they 
would  check  incipient  liberty  among  the  j^oungcr  clergy  in 
both  Churches,  awe  the  lait}^  and  force  the  Establishment 
to  join  them.  The  union  could  then  take  place.  The  laity 
would  not  leave  the  Unionists,  as  the  Establishment  was  as 
narrow.  A  stern  clergy-power  would  reign  ;  the  coalition 
Avould  soon  destroy  the  Establishment  from  old  grudge  and 
hate,  wliile  it  would  have  no  prestige  of  being  a  National 
Church,  and  as  such  inclusive  to  the  utmost  stretch  of  her 
constitution,  and  the  representative  of  true  freedom  with- 
out licentiousness. 

"  The  politics  of  the  one  party  were  to  represent  the  past 
only,  to  lie  at  anchor  as  if  the  end  of  the  voyage  in  history 
was  reached,  to  accept  the  finding  of  the  Westminster 
Assembly  as  perfect  and  incapable  of  improvement.  The 
politics  of  the  Church,  as  involved  in  this  struggle,  are, 
sail  on,  not  back,  to  hold  by  the  })ast,  but  to  grow  out 
of  it,  and  as  a  living  organic  whole  to  develop  all  that  is 
good  in  it  into  a  stronger,  expansive,  and  more  fruitful 
tree.  Whether  we  could  or  can  do  this  witli  a  Confession 
which  is  parfe'of  the  constitution  of  the  country,  was  and  is 
the  question. 

"  There  is  a  set  of  ecclesiastics  who  will  not  read  a  book. 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  203 

a  newspaper,  or  argue  with  any  one  who  does  not  reflect 
then'  own  sentiments.  They  look  into  the  glass  and  say, 
'  I  see  every  time  I  look  there  one  who  always  agrees  with 
me.'  That  is  their  whole  world,  and  of  the  rest  they  are 
profoundly  ignorant. 

"  The  members  of  Presbytery  were  in  a  very  painful  and 
difficult  position.  My  departure  from  the  letter  of  the 
Confession  was  not  only  evident,  but  was  so  in  a  degree 
and  to  an  extent  Avhicli  was  almost  unprecedented,  and 
could  not  be  overlooked  without  making  the  Presbytery 
suspected  of  indifference  or  moral  cowardice.  On  the 
other   hand,  they  had   no   personal   ill-will  to   me,   while 

many  had  the  very  kindest  feelings  to  me.      called 

for  me  twice,  and  the  upshot  of  our  conversation  was,  that 
I  declared  what  I  would  not  and  what  I  would  do.  I 
would  not  recant  or  withdraw  one  word  I  had  uttered, 
simply  because  I  did  not  as  yet  see  that  I  had  uttered 
anything  wrong  ;  that  if  I  left  the  Church  I  would  do  so 
with  self-respect,  and  that  I  would  not  propose  to  the 
Presbytery  to  do  anything.  They  must  act  according  to 
their  conscience ;  so  must  I ;  each  realising  our  responsibility 
to  God,  and  leaving  all  results  to  him.  But,  short  of 
the  sacrifice  of  my  honour  and  sense  of  truth,  I  would  act 
with  all  courtesy,  all  kindness,  and  help  to  carry  their 
burden  of  responsibility  as  I  would  wish  them  to  carry 
mine.  Accordingly  I  did  not  vote  on  what  was  an  im- 
portant question,  the  committee,  which  if  carried  would 
have  brought  the  whole  matter  up  to  the  Assembly  in  a 
formal  manner. 

"  And  so  in  the  meeting  of  Presbytery  which  afterwards 
took  place,  I  admitted  that  I  had  taught  against  the  Con- 
fession of  Faith,  that  no  doubt  that  was  the  fact,  but  asserted 
that  either  all  had  done  the  same  or  did  not  in  e\'ery 
iota  believe  the  Confession;  therefore  the  question  turned  on 
whether  I  had  so  differed  from  the  Confession  as  to  necessi- 
tate deposition  ?  I  thus  at  the  risk  of  my  ecclesiastical  life 
established  the  principle  that  all  differences  from  the  Con- 
fession, apart  from  the  nature  of  the  difference,  did  not 
involve  deposition.  Henceforth  we  shall  keep  our  Con- 
fession with  power  to  depose  on  any  point  of  difference,  yet 


20+  LIFE  OF  NORM  AN  MACLEOD. 

judicially  determining,'  what  point  or  what  degree  of  difTer^ 
once.      A  Gfreat  ?ain  ! 

"  In  so  fur  as  the  question  of  ministerial  liberty  was 
concerned,  thank  God,  I  have  gained  the  day,  and  it  is  a 
bright  day  for  Scotland,  which  will  not  be  followed  by 
night,  but  shine  on  unto  the  perfect  dny,  wdiich  to  me 
would  be  the  subjection  of  every  soul  to  the  teaching  of 
Jesus  Christ,  the  one  pro[)het  of  the  Church,  and  to 
Moses  and  His  prophets  as  His  servants,  whose  teaching  is 
to  be  interpreted  by  that  of  the  Master's. 

"  Their  admonition  was  not  pronounced  but  recorded, 
and  I  said  that  it  was  interesting  as  being  probably  the 
last  which  should  be  addressed  to  any  minister  of  the 
Church  for  teachinsf  as  I  did,  and  that  I  would  show  it 
some  day  to  my  son  as  an  ecclesiastical  fossil.  They  only 
smiled  and  said  he  would  never  discover  it.  All  was  good 
humour,  and  why  they  did  not  see  or  feel  the  victory  I 
had  trained  I  cannot  tell." 


Tx>  A.  Straran,  Esq. : — 

"  I  think  the  Assembly  won't  depose — but  having 
risked  all  for  freedom  and  truth,  I  am  not  surprised  at 
having  lost  an  influence  in  this  country  which  will  never 
be  regained  by  me  in  this  world,  though  the  next 
generation  will  reap  freedom  from  it." 

Vrwi  his  Journal  : — 

"June,  186C. — The  Assembly  is  over,  and  not  one  per- 
sonal allusion  was  made  regarding  me,  far  less  any  unkind 
word.  Most  wonderful !  Most  unaccountable !  It  is  a 
state  of  things  which  I  cannot  *  take  in.'  I  cannot  a/x^ount 
for  it.  I  believe  kind  personal  feeling  had  something  to 
do  with  it,  so  some  truthful  men  told  me.  But  it  has  also 
been  said  that  convictions  were  too  general  and  strong 
on  my  side,  as  a  whole,  to  make  any  discussion  safe,  and 
such  as  would  not  be,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  very  agree- 
able as  revealing  the  actual  state  of  the  Church.  Any 
how,  I  thank  and  praise  God  for  His  great  mercy,  and  pray 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  205 

that  I  may  be  enabled  to  use  this  Kberty  humbly,  lovingly, 
and  sincerely  for  His  glory.  I  trust  that  I  shall  be  able 
more  than  ever  to  strenoi'then  men's  convictions  as  to  the 
blessedness  of  the  Lord's-day,  and  the  spiritual  good  of 
keeping  it  holy  unto  the  Lonl.  I  hope  also  to  be  able  to 
check  any  tendency  which  some  possibly  may  entertain  of 
being  able  to  preach  lax  doctrine  as  regards  catholic  truth 
and  vital  Christianity.  I  hope  that  my  freedom,  which 
has  been  obtained  at  a  great  price,  may  ever  be  used  to 
brinsf  men  under  law  to  Christ,  and  never  directlv  or  in- 
directly  to  be  perverted  into  a  cloak  for  licentiousness, 
or  for  conceited  pup^nes  to  trifle  with  the  eternal  verities 
of  religion,  or  the  proprieties  of  our  National  Church. 

"Oh,  my  Father!  Guide  me,  give  me  a  single  eye,  a 
pure  and  loving  heart.  Deliver  me  from  the  temptation  of 
party.  Help  me  to  be  ever  consistent  with  the  truth,  and 
ever  teach  me  by  Thine  infinite  power,  wisdom,  and  love, 
what  the  truth  is.  Let  Thy  Spirit  pierce  through  all  the 
crust  of  selfishness,  vanity,  ambition,  and  the  love  of  man's 
approval,  and  enable  me,  come  what  may,  to  keep  Thy 
blessed  will  before  me,  and  to  follow  it  unto  death. 

"  It  is  far  more  difficult  to  act  rightly  in  prosperity  than 
in  adversity,  when  victorious  than  when  defeated.  At  all 
times  how  difficult  to  be  humble,  to  consider  others,  to  be 
subject  one  to  another,  to  have  the  love  that  vaunteth  not 
itself ! 

"  Almighty  God  !  In  infinite  mercy,  keep  me  from  being 
true  to  any  Church  or  party,  yet  false  to  Thee,  or  to  the 
truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus. 

"  A  few  years  more,  should  these  be  given,  and  my  work 
is  done.  Grant,  oh  my  Father,  that  it  may  be  so  done  as 
that  I  may  be  acknowledged  as  a  faithful  servant.  For- 
give, forgive,  forgive  !  through  the  blood  of  Jesus  shed  for 
the  remission  of  the  sins  of  the  world." 


From  the  late  Eev.  F.  D.  Maxirice  : — 

"  I  have  been  writing  a  short  book,  '  On  the  Command- 
ments as  Instruments  for  Preserving  and  Eestoring  Na- 
tional Life  and  Freedom.' 


2o6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  As  the  book  maintnins  a  doctrine  which  is  adverse  to 
that  ill  your  speech  on  the  Subhath,  I  intended  to  dedi- 
cate it  to  you  that  I  might  express  the  high  respect  I  feel 
for  you,  and  my  thorough  agreement  with  your  object, 
while  I  deviate  so  widely  from  a  part  of  your  theory.  I  Jut 
if  you  think  the  dedication  would  in  any  way  be  injurious 
to  you,  or  if  it  would  be  disagreeable  to  you,  I  will  cancel 
it  altogether,  or  I  will  omit  any  passages  in  it  that  may 
give  you  the  least  annoyance." 

Fron  Dean  Stanley  to  Dr.  Macleod  : — 

Deanery,  Westminster,  Sejitember  Mth,  1866. 

"My  dear  Bishop, 

"(For  under  this  aspect  I  always  regard  you 
when  I  cross  the  Border).  I  much  lament  that  I  dare  not 
accept  the  offer  to  lecture  at  Glasgow.  There  arc  some 
things  which  I  should  much  enjoy  saying  to  an  assembly 
of  Scots,  but  the  convenient  season  is  not  ^'et  come. 

"  In  comincf  from  Berwick  to  Edinl)ur<>h,  we  h:id  with 
us  in  the  railwav  carriage  a  man  from  Glasgow.  '  Do  vou 
know  Dr.  Norman  Macleod  ? '  '  Not  personally,  because  I 
am  a  Free  Churchman.  ]\Iy  sister,  however,  sits  under 
him,  and  likes  him  very  much.  But  Norman  Macleod  has 
had  a  line  heckling  about  the  Doxology  I '  " 

To  the  Eev.  D.  Morrison  : — 

Hydropathic  Establishment,  Cluny  Hill,  Forrss, 

September,  1866, 

"  Here  I  am  m  a  state  of  perpetual  thaw,  ceaseless 
moisture,  always  under  a  Avet  blanket,  and  constantly  in 
danger  of  kicking  the  bucket — '  water,  water  everywhere.' 
I  have  been  stewed  like  a  goose,  beat  on  like  a  drum,  bat- 
tered like  a  pancake,  rubbed  like  corned  beef,  dried  like 
Findon  haddock,  and  wrapped  up  like  a  mummy  in  wet 
sheets  and  blankets,  ^My  belief  is  that  I  am  in  a  lunatic 
asylum — too  mad  to  be  quite  sure  about  it.  ^ly  wife  says 
I  never  was  so  sane.  But  what  if  she  herself  is  insane  ? 
That  is  a  difficulty. 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  207 

"  I  am  composing  a  Hydropathic  Catechism  for  the  use 
of  schools. 

"  What  was  the  primeval  state  of  the  globe  ?     Water. 

"  What  was  the  first  blessing  bestowed  on  the  earth  ? 
Rain. 

"  What  was  the  grand  means  of  purifying  the  earth  ? 
The  Deluge. 

"  Mention  some  of  the  great  deliverances  by  water  ? 
Moses  in  the  Nile  ;  ditto,  Red  Sea,  &c.,  &c. 

"  This  is  lavino-  what  is  called  a  reliofious  foundation. 
Then  comes  the  scientific. 

"  What  is  the  best  music  ?     Water-pipes. 

"  What  is  the  best  Hght  ?     Dips. 

"  What  is  the  best  wife  ?     A  mermaid. 

"  What  is  the  best  death  ?  Water  in  the  chest,  or 
drowning. 

"  Who  are  the  true  Church  ?      Baptists. 

"  What  is  the  best  sons:  in  the  English  languas^e  ?  '  A 
wet  sheet  and  a  flowing  sea.' 

"Who  are  the  true  aristocracy?     The  K.C.B.'s,  &c.,  &c. 

"  This  will  be  the  most  celebrated  book  published  in  the 
rain  of  Queen  Victoria !  I  will  dedicate  it  to  the  raining 
family." 


To 


"  I  am  much  interested  by  the  evolution  from  your 
internal  consciousness  of  the  lamb-like  character  of  your 
disposition.  It  quite  agrees  with  my  estimate  of  my  own 
disjjosition.  I  have  invariably  testified  to  my  wife  that 
there  never  was  a  more  calm,  sweet,  obedient,  and  gentle 
husband  than  myself,  so  long  as  she  never  contradicts  me, 
opposes  me,  differs  from  me  ;  but,  if  she  does  so,  then 
very  different  feelings  may  manifest  themselves.  If  so, 
who  is  to  blame  ?  She  is,  of  course — who  else  ?  Not  the 
lamb,  but  the  lion  that  worries  it.  '  Heaven  help  me  ! '  said 
Niagara,  '  what  injustice  the  world  does  me  !  They  call  me 
a  river  which  is  always  foaming  in  rapids,  thundering  in 
falls,  seething  in  foam  and  whirlpools !  Is  that  my  fault  ? 
Fuff !     AU  of  you  Yankees,  Prussians,  and   French,  I  am 


to8 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


of  a  most  sweet,  calm,  and  pliable  disposition.  But  if 
those  low  blackguard  rocks  will  oppose  me,  interfere  with 
me,  cross  my  path  with  their  confounded  strata,  hem  me 
in  on  every  side,  crush  me  ;  what  can  I  do  but  foam, 
and  spit,  and  rage  ?  Let  me,  leave  me  alone  !  and  you 
will    see    how    calmly    I    shall    sleei)    and  reflect    in   my 

bosom  the  glories  of 
earth  and  sky  ! '  Oh, 
my  darling  Niagara, 
forgive  my  injustice  ! 
Pity  my  ignorance  ! 
May  thy  sleep  be 
sweet  in  thine  Erie 
garret  and  in  thy 
Lake  Superior  in 
'CO!'" 


To  Mrs.  MACLEOD : 

Balmoeal,  \bth  October,  1866. 

"  The  Queen  is  pleased  to  command  me  to  remain  here 
till  Tuesday. 

"  I  found  Mr.  Cardwell  had  been  in  the  Barony,  and,  to  the 
great  amusement  of  the  Queen,  he  repeated  my  scold  about 
the  singing.*  After  dinner,  the  Queen  invited  me  to  her 
room,  where  I  found  the  Princess  Helena  and  Marchioness 
of  Ely. 

"  The  Queen  sat  down  to  spin,  at  a  nice  Scotch  wheel, 
while  I  read  Robert  Burns  to  her  :  '  Tarn  o'  Shanter,'  and 
*  A  man's  a  man  for  a  that,'  her  favourite. 

"  The  Prince  and  Princess  of  Hesse  sent  for  me  to  see 
their  children.  The  eldest,  Victoria,  whom  I  saw  at  J^arm- 
stadt,  is  a  most  sweet  child ;  the  youngest,  Elizabeth,  a 
round,  fat  ball  of  loving  good-nature.  I  gave  her  a  real 
hobble,  such  as  I  give  Polly.  I  suppose  the  little  thing 
never  got  anything  like  it,  for  she  screamed  and  kicked 
with  a  perfect  furore  of  delight,    would  go   from    me   to 

*  "  Scripture  commands  us  to  '  sing  ' — not  yruiit — but  if  you  iire  so 
constituted  physically  that  it  is  impossible  for  you  to  sing,  but  ouly 
grunt — then  it  is  best  to  be  silent." 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  200 

neither  father  nor  mother  or  nurse,  to  their  great  merri- 
ment, but  buried  her  cliul)by  face  in  my  cheek,  until  I 
gave  her  another  right  good  hobble.  Tliey  are  such  dear 
children. 

"  The  Prince  of  Wales  sent  a  message  asking  me  to  go 

and  see  him. 

*♦**♦* 

"When  I  was  there  the  young  Prince  of  Wales  fell  on 
the  wax-cloth,  after  lunch,  with  such  a  thump  as  left  a 
swollen  blue  mark  on  his  forehead.  He  cried  for  a  minute, 
and  then  laughed  most  braveh^  There  Avas  no  fuss  what- 
ever made  about  him  by  mother,  father,  or  any  one , 
yet  it  must  have  been  very  sore,  and  I  would  have  been 
nervous  about  it,  if  it  'had  happened  to  Polly.  He  is  a 
dear,  sweet  child.  All  seem  to  be  very  happy.  We  had  n 
great  deal  of  pleasant  talk  in  the  garden.  Dear,  good 
General  Grey  drove  me  home." 

To  his  Mother  : — 

Abergeldie. 

"  It  was  reported  to  me  the  other  day,  with  perfect  con- 
fidence, that  the  young  Prince  was  deformed  in  his  hands. 
I  saw  and  kissed  the  child  to-day,  and  a  more  healthy,  per- 
fect, or  more  delightful  child  I  never  saw.  Think  of  these 
lies!" 


To  Canon  Kingsley  : — 

Adelaide  Place,  April  \{)th,  1867. 

"  When  I  wish  to  remember  a  friend  daily  I  don't 
answer  his  letter  for  days  when  it  demands  an  imme- 
diate reply.  What  a  presence  he  becomes,  and  how 
humble  and  ashamed  one  feels  before  him,  especially  when 
we  have  no  excuse  for  our  silence  which  can  bear  his 
scrutiny !  By  this  sinful  process,  '  how  often  hath  my 
spirit  turned  to  thee  ? '  ever  since  I  received  your  note  ! 
I  won't  tell  you  how  much  I  felt  on  reading  your  note.  I 
shall  leave  it  to  my  boys  that  they  may,  when  I  am  gone, 
learn  from  it  that  one  so  great  and  good  gave  their  old 
dad  so  hearty  and  firm  a  grasp  of  his  hand.      God  bless 

VOL.    II.  P 


2IO 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


you  for  it!  With  all  my  lioart  I  return  it,  for  all  you 
are  and  'a'  Gli'iicairu  lias  been  to  nie.'  I  send  my  'plan,' 
as  a  Higliland  laird  termed  his  wife's  likeness,  to  your 
lady,  proud  that  it  may  find  a  humble  place  in  her  collec- 
tion. The  only  inscription  I  am  inclined  to  write  on  it 
would  be,  Eccles.  ii.  15,  last  ckuse." 

To  A.  Strahan,  Esq. : — 

" 's  verses  are  neither  high  as  the  pyramids  nor 

deep  as  the  sea,  but  a  profound  and  unutteral)le  mystery 
of  invisible  stuff,  of  which  even  you  do  not  comprehend 
one  word.      Wait  till  I  examine  you." 


^;o/ 


rj- 


Sonnet  by  Miss  ■ 


Blackiieatii,  Friday  Morning,  \Oth  May,  1867. 

"  Had  such  a  congregation  yesterday  !  Such  a  church  ! 
I  was  very  happy,  my  heart  was  in  it,  and  the  people 
seemed  thankful.  They  gave  audible  expression  more  than 
once,  laughing  outright,  and  semi-applause !  Newman  Hall, 
Mullens,  Dale,  Rogers,  &c.,  were  present,  and  many  mission- 
aries, all  so  affectionate.  It  was  a  happy  night,  and  I 
thank  God  for  it ;  and  so  will  you,  dearest." 


From  his  JouRNAli : — 

"  I  spent  last  fortnight  in  the  South.  Visited  Afan- 
chester  and  Leamington.  A  happy  time.  Compo.sed  in 
train,  *  Whistle  the  Mavie.' 


SABBATH  CONTROVERSY.  211 

"  Published  the  '  Curlinor  Sonof,'  last  month,  in  Bhich- 
wood. 

"Lived  with  Dean  Stanley  from  the  IGth  till  the  18th.' 

The  story  of  the  '  Starling,'  on  which  he  was  now 
engaged,  was  suggested  by  a  note  which  he  receive<l 
the  day  after  his  speech  on  the  Sabbath  question,  from 
the  former  editor  of  the  Reformer'' s  Gazette  in  Glas- 
gow : — 

"  Suffer  me  to  give  you  the  following  story  which  I 
heard  in  Perth  upwards  of  forty  years  ago.  A  very  rigid 
clergyman  of  that  city  had  a  very  decent  shoemaker  for  an 
elder,  who  had  an  extreme  liking  for  birds  of  all  kinds, 
not  a  few  of  which  he  kept  in  cages,  and  they  cheered 
him  in  his  daily  work.  He  taught  one  of  them  in  par- 
ticular (a  starling)  to  whistle  some  of  our  finest  old  Scot- 
tish tunes.  It  happened  on  a  fine  Sabbath  morning  the 
starling  was  in  fine  feather,  and  as  the  minister  was  pass- 
ing by  he  heard  the  starling  singing  with  great  glee  in  his 
cage  outside  his  door,  '  Ower  the  water  to  Charlie  ! '  The 
worthy  minister  was  so  shocked  at  this  on  the  Sabbath 
morning  that  on  Monday  he  insisted  the  shoemaker  would 
either  wring  the  bird's  neck  or  demit  the  office  of  elder. 
This  was  a  cruel  alternative,  but  the  decent  shoemaker 
clung  to  his  favourite  bird,  and  prospered.  If  he  had 
murdered  the  innocent,  would  the  Sabbath  have  been 
sanctified  to  him  ? 

"Yours  faithfully, 

"Peter  Mackenzie." 

From  this  brief  narrative  the  tale  of  the  '  Starling  ' 
was  written — perhaps  the  ablest  of  his  attempts  in 
fiction.  As  a  literary  production,  it  is  remarkable 
as  being  without  any  love-plot,  and  in  making  the 
interest  of  the  story  turn  completely  on  another  range 
of  sympathies. 

p  2 


sit  LIFE  OF  NORM A\'  MACLEOD. 

From  his  Joutinal  :- — 

"I  am  writing  the  'Starling'  for  Good  Words,  to  illus- 
trate the  one-sidedness  and  consequent  untruth  of  hard 
logical  '  principle,'  when  in  conflict  with  genuine  moral 
feeling,  true  faith  versus  apparent  '  truth  '  of  reasoning." 


CHAPTER  XIX. 

SOME    CHARACTERISTICS. 

IT  is  unfortunate  that  no  record  of  his  '  Table-talk ' 
has  been  preserved,  for  every  one  who  knew  him 
would  at  once  fix  on  his  conversation  as  the  sphere 
in  which  he  alone  displayed  the  riches  of  his  imagi- 
nation, wit,  humour,  and  sympathy. 

"Much  as  one  enjoys,"  writes  Principal  Sliairp,  "many 
things  that  come  from  his  pen,  full  as  they  are  of  healthy 
life  and  human  heartedness,  nothing  he  has  written  is  any 
measure  of  tlie  powers  that  were  in  him.  The  sermons  he 
preached,  with  the  language  warm  from  his  heart,  were  far 
beyond  the  best  he  published.  His  addresses  to  public 
meetings  were  better  than  his  sermons,  for  they  allowed 
him  to  flavour  his  earnest  thoughts  with  that  overflowing 
humour  which  would  have  been  out  of  place  in  the  pulpit. 
Sometimes  when  he  met  a  congenial  party  at  dinner,  or  on 
an  evening,  his  talk  impressed  them  more  than  his  best 
speeches,  so  rich  was  it,  so  varied  and  versatile.  But  the 
time  to  get  him  at  his  l.iest  and  fullest  was  when  you  sat 
up  with  him  till  midnight,  all  alone  in  his  study,  with 
none  to  hear  but  one  familiar  friend  in  whose  sympathy 
he  could  fully  rely — it  was  then  that  his  whole  soul  came 
out  in  all  its  breadth  and  rich  variety,  touching  every 
chord  of  human  feeling,  and  ranging  from  common  earth 
to  highest  heaven.  The  anecdote,  reflection,  argument, 
bright  flashes  of  imagination,  drollest  humour,  most  thrill- 
ing pathos,  and  solemn  thoughts  wandering  through 
eternity,  all   blended   into  one  whole  of  conversation,   the 


214  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

like  of  which  you  never  before  listened  to.  In  a  moment 
he  would  pass  from  some  comical  illustration  of  hu;;ian 
character  to  the  most  serious  reality  of  sacred  truth,  ami 
you  would  feel  no  discord.  In  any  other  liands  there 
would  have  been  a  jar,  but  not  in  his.  Those  who  knew 
him  well  will  understand  what  I  mean,  to  others  it  cannot 
be  described.  At  such  times  1  used  to  think  that  if  all 
the  pleasant  est,  ablest  conversations  I  had  ever  heard  ut 
Oxford  from  one's  best  friends  had  been  rolled  into  one, 
it  would  not  have  made  up  such  a  profusion  of  soul  as 
came  from  Norman  then.  No  one,  however  well  he 
might  otherwise  know  him,  could  estimate  his  full  breadth 
and  depth  of  nature,  unless  they  had  spent  with  him  some 
such  solitary  evenings  as  these." 

Another  who  knew  him  well  wrote  after  his 
death : — * 

"  How  he  taught  me — as  he  taught  many  whose  hnp- 
piest  fortune  it  luis  been  to  share  now  and  again  in  those 
quiet  hours  in  his  back  study — that  all  of  the  bright  and 
beautiful  in  life,  all  that  could  gladden  the  s|)irit  and  eheer 
the  heart,  gained  yet  a  brighter  tint  in  the  light  i-eflected 
from  a  Father's  love  :  that  mirth  became  more  deep,  and 
so  much  more  real  :  that  each  good  gift  became  mueh 
more  cherished  from  the  recognition  of  the  Great  Giver  ef 
all.  And  here  truly,  it  has  seemed  to  me,  did  he  espe- 
cially  prove  himself  a  minister  of  the  Gospel 

Nothino-  was  more  strano-e  to  me  at  first — nothing  came  to 
be  accepted  by  me  as  more  natural  afterwards — tlian  the 
constant  evidence  Avhich  each  opportunity  of  private  inter- 
course with  this  I'j'reat,  lartxe-hearted,  noble-minded  man 
afforded  me  of  the  deep  undea-current  in  liis  thoughts  and 
life.  I  never  knew  him  in  all  my  meetings  with  him 
force  a  reference  to  religious  thought  or  feeling.  I  never 
was  with  him  for  a  quarter  of  an  hour  that  his  confidential 
talk,  however  conversational,  however  humorous  even, 
had  not,  as  it  were  of  itself  and  as  of  necessity,  discloseJ 
the  centre  round  wliich  his  whole  lile  revolved." 

*  Seo  Qood  Wordi  lor  1872,  p.  515. 


MilioJi   Loekha.rt, 

CarluJce,  NB. 


J)<^        J^  t.'^^'         '^^1^-'-^         ■lu-C^'l.y^       . 


C/v-^   ^ 


^^:^,J^     ^-^-^^-^^    /ecil-N^ 


J^ — ^    yi..-^^^jt-^ 


e^ 


-^--^^.^O 


...^^  -'^  Z^-- 

P ^  yj  - 


^^-^.^.-^  ^ 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  215 

The  'ceaseless  mimicry,'  wliicli  had  provoked  his 
father  when  Norman  Macleod  was  a  boy,  and  the  wit 
and  humour,  which  grew  with  his  growth,  were  in- 
valuable possessions  to  himself  in  his  later  years,  as 
well  as  sources  of  delight  to  others.  Harassed  by 
work  almost  to  despair,  worried  past  endurance  by  all 
sorts  and  conditions  of  men  and  women,  then,  as  'per 
contra^  he  would  indulge  in  some  humorous  grimaces 
and  apostrophes,  give  a  fresh  touch  to  a  ridiculous 
rhyme,  or  draw  a  series  of  funny  faces.  Odd  carica- 
tures were,  at  such  times,  dropped  into  letters,  even 
the  most  serious — sometimes  as  a  heading,  more  usually 
by  way  of  signature.*  These  tricks  of  humour  were 
to  him  refreshing  as  well  as  amusing. 

•  A  fac-simile  is  here  given  of  otib  of  these  illustrated  letters, 
written  to  the  late  Mr.  Murray,  of  Melrose,  in  reply  to  one  asking  lor 
his  autograph :  — 

"My  dear  Mr.  Murray, 

' '  Did  I  ever  reply  to  your  note  requesting  autographs  ?     I 
believe  not. 

"The  reason  is  that  I  have  been  studying  ever  since  to  write  a 
telling,  graphic,  remarknble  signature.  The  fact  is,  I  vary  my  signa- 
ture with  my  correspondents.     When  I  write  mj^  wife  or  mother,  it  ia 

in  this  wise .     When  I  write  my  children,  it  is  so , 

singularly  clear  and  beautiful.     To  crowned  heads  1  am  more  aristo- 
cratic, as .     To  Abraham  Lincoln  I  never  give  more  than 

Yours,  &c.. 


"  To  the  Pope  it  is 

Tours,  old  cock, 

+  Barony. 
"  Ditto  with  Canterbury.     When  I  write  a  gentleman  like  yourself, 
I  always  subscribe  myself  as 

Tour  faithful  serv. 


which  I  call  a  wearable,  good,  healthy  signature. 

"To  my  brothers  and  sisters  I  use  signs,  such  as  intellectual, 
serene,  — .     Inquisitive^  respectable,  orthodox,  doubtful. 

"How  came  that  note  of  j'ours  to  turn  up  in  my  bag  with  one 
hundred  other  letters,  when  on  a  wet  day  I  have  returned  from  lunch 
to  dinner  to  reply  to  them  ?  Such  a  reply  !  When  you  have  received 
this  evidence  of  my  remembrance  of  j'ou,  burn  it,  or  I  will — you." 


2 1 6  L IFE  OF  NORMA  N  MA  CL  EOD. 

One  of  his  favourite  studies  in  tlie  wny  of  drollory 
was  Ilighland  characters,  and  Iligldand  dioxers  in 
particular.  As  he  recollected  the  boyish  aw(;  with 
which  he  regarded  these  men  on  their  return  from  the 
great  '  Trysts  '  of  Falkirk  or  Dumbarton ;  the  absorb- 
ing interest  taken  by  the  people  in  their  accounts  of 
the  markets,  and  prices  of  '  stots,'  '  queys,'  and  all 
varieties  of  sheep  ;  their  utter  indifference  to  every 
human  concern  except  cattle  and  collies  ;  then  the 
absurdity  of  the  contrast  between  these  old  memories 
and  his  immediate  cares  and  troubles  would  fairly 
overpower  him,  and  result  most  likely  in  a  dramatic 
representation  of  a  debate  about  the  quality  of  '  stock.' 
He  had  formed  for  himself  an  ideal  drover,  whom  he 
named  Peter  MacTavish,  round  w^hose  figure  a  w^orld 
of  ridiculous  fancies  was  grouped.  Only  a  person 
well  acquainted  with  Highland  character  could  have 
appreciated  the  wit  and  dramatic  truthfulness  of  this 
conception.  Often,  when  his  father  was  oppressed 
wdth  the  weakness  of  extreme  age,  Norman  would  go 
dowTi  of  an  evening  to  cheer  him,  and  before  approach- 
ing those  more  solemn  subjects  with  which  their  inter- 
course always  closed,  he  would  stir  his  old  Highland 
associations  and  tickle  his  genial  fancy  by  a  personifi- 
cation of  this  '  Peter,'  mingliug,  in  broken  Gaelic, 
reflections  on  men  and  manners  with  discourses  on 
"beasts,"  till  from  very  pain  of  laughter  his  father 
would  beseech  him  to  desist.  '  Peter '  was  more  than 
once  introduced  by  him  into  strange  scenes.  When 
in  Italy,  he  concocted  a  long  narrative,  shoAving  the 
connection  between  the  Pope's  Bulls  and  the  other 
species  '  Peter '  had  sold  at  Falkii*k,  and  in  not  a  few 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS. 


217 


hotel  books  the  sonorous  rendering  Pietro  Tavisino 
was  entered.  At  Moscow,  the  temptation  of  bringing 
the  drover  under  the  shadow  of  the 
Kremlin  was  so  great,  that  I  be- 
lieve he  gave  himself  no  other  de- 
signation than  'Peter  MacTavish, 
from  Mull.' 

This  sense  of  the  ludicrous  was 
a  passion  which  seized  him  at  the 
most  unlikely  moments.  The  fol- 
lowing verses,  for  example,  were 
mostly  written  when  he  was  en- 
during   such  violent    pain    that   the      'I'^ter- as  a  Monkey-god. 

night  was  spent  in  his  study,  and  he  had  occasion- 
ally to  bend  over  the  back  of  a  chair  for  relief : — 


CAPTAIN  FRAZEE'S  NOSE. 

Air. — "  The  Lass  0'  Oowrie,^* 

O,  if  ye'r  at  Dumbarton  Fair, 
Gang  to  the  Castle  when  ye'r  there, 
And  see  a  sight  baith  rich  and  rare — 
The  nose  o'  Captain  Frazer  I 

Unless  ye'r  blin'  or  unco  glee'd, 
A  mile  awa'  ye'r  sure  to  see't, 
And  neerer  han'  a  man  gtiuns  wi't 

That  owns  the  nose  o'  Frazer, 

It's  great  in  length,  it's  great  in  girth, 
It's  great  in  grief,  it's  great  in  mirth, 
Tho'  grown  wi'  years,  'twas  gieat  at  birth- 
It's  greater  far  than  Frazer  ! 

I've  heard  volcanoes  loudly  roaring, 
And  Niagara's  waters  pouring; 
But  oh,  gin  ye  had  heard  the  snoi-in' 

Frae  the  nose  o'  Captain  Frazer  t 

Tae  waukin'  sleepin'  congregations, 
Or  rouse  to  battle  sleepin'  nations, 
Gae  wa'  wi'  preachings  and  orations. 
And  try  the  nose  o'  Frazer  I 


2 1 8  LIFE  OF  NORMA N  MA  CL EOD. 

Gif  French  invarlors  try  to  Ian' 
Upon  our  f^lorious  l>ritish  stran', 
Fear  nocht  if  ships  are  no'  at  h;tn', 

But  trust  the  nose  o'  Frazer. 

Just  crak'  that  cannon  ower  the  shore, 
Weel  rammed  wi'  snufl",  then  let  it  roar 
Ae  llieluu'  sneeze  !  then  never  more 

They'll  daur  the  nose  c'  Fruzor  I 

If  that  great  Nose  is  ever  deid, 

To  bury  it  ye  dinna  need, 

Nae  coffin  made  o'  wood  or  lead 

Could  haud  the  nose  o'  Frazer. 

But  let  it  stan'  itsel'  alane 
Erect,  like  some  big  Druid  stane, 
That  a'  the  warl'  maj'  see  its  bane, 
"  In  memory  o'  Frazer !  "  * 
Dnmharton,  Septemhtr  1,  1771. 

*  lie  afterwards  introduced  this  song  into  a  story,  which  was  not 
completed,  and  has  never  been  published,  and  added  the  following 
Hote : — 

"  No  one  can  read  this  song  without  being  painfully  struck  with  the 
tone  of  exaggeration  about  it.  Anxious,  however,  to  investigate  as 
far  as  possible  into  this  matter,  we  wrote  to  Mr.  MacGilvray,  the 
keejicr  of  the  Antiquarian  Museum  at  Dumbarton,  who,  sympathising 
with  us,  obligedly  seut  us  a  long  communication,  fi'om  which  we  quote 
with  his  jiermission.  He  says  :  '  I  am  confirmed  in  your  %dews  regard- 
ing the  exaggerated  account  given  in  the  poem  of  "  Captain  Fruzer's 
Nose,"  bj'  a  long  correspondence  on  the  subject,  as  a  scientific  question, 
with  two  distinguished  savans.  They  both  decidedly  think  that  a 
human  nose,  by  the  constant  application  of  snuff  to  its  nostrils,  and  of 
Athole  brose,  which  they  properly  assume  to  possess  a  considerable 
amount  of  alcoholic  ingredients,  miglit,  acting  upon  it  from  within 
through  the  nervous  sj'stem,  if  continued  for  a  vast  and  incalculable 
series  of  ages,  be  developed  at  last  into  a  proboscis  so  large  as  ulti- 
mately wholly  to  absorb  the  person  of  its  possessor.  Arguing  from 
this  fact,  they  also  believe  that,  by  a  recurrent  law  of  Natux-e,  the 
original  organization  attached  to  a  man  might  return  to  the  form  of  a 
huge  unnelide  or  possibly  earthworm,  which  might,  like  the  dragon  of 
romance,  prove  a  terror  to  the  countrj%  and  might  thus  originate  a 
new  age  of  romantic  poetry,  or  even  a  religitm !  But  they  treat  as 
purely  mj'thical  the  existence  of  any  nose  in  this  ago  such  as  is  alleged 
to  have  belonged  to  C.iptain  Frazer  or  to  any  other  of  our  race  at  the 
])resent  stage  of  its  progrt^ss.  If  this  is  asserted,  they  demand  the 
bone  of  Fnizer's  nose  for  scientific  examination.'  If  more  full  and 
complete  information  on  this  great  subject  is  sought  by  our  more 
scientific  readers,  we  must  refer  them  to  the  learned  Professor  II. 'a 
paper,  '  On  the  Development  of  the  Nasal  Organ  in  Man,  with  its 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS. 


aig 


1^0  one  wlio  recollects  tlie  importance  lie  attached 
to  district  visiting  will  misunderstand  the  verses  Avhich 
follow,  as  if  they  were-  meant  seriously  to  di.^courage 
such  efforts  : — 


PATRICK  MACPHUDD. 

HINTS   ON  DISTRICT  VISITING   BY   GOOD   LADIES. 

Miss  Jemima  MacDowal,  tlie  parson's  sweet  jewel, 
Is  fair  and  red  as  a  rose  coming  out  of  its  bud, 

But  cell,  "  by  the  powei-s,"  what  attention  she  showers, 
On  that  thundering  blackguard,  big  Patrick  MacPhudd. 

She  saj's  she  is  sartain  and  shure  to  convart  him, 
And  to  lift  the  ould  Catholic  out  of  the  mud, 

And  so  she  is  walking,  and  every  day  talking, 
To  Mistress,  or  Misses,  or  Mister  MacPhudd. 


natural  selection  of  snuflF  among  some  savage  nations,'  read  before  the 
last  meeting  of  the  British  Association,  and  which  was  received  with 
prodigious  sneezes.  '  With  my  profound  reverence  for  Science,'  Mr. 
MacGilvray  goes  on  to  say,  '  I  need  hardly  say  that  I  heartily  concur 
in  these  conclusions  of  the  learned  gentleman,  and  leave  the  whole 
question  in  perfect  peace  to  be  finally  decided  bj^  the  races  which  shall 
appear  as  our  descendants  in  future  a^es.  But  as  all  true  science,  as 
tlio  liveat  Goethe  once  remarked  (so,  at  least,  I  read  in  a  news])aper), 


220  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

She's  so  sweet  a  bit  cratur,  and  humble  by  natur 
As  to  carry  down  soup,  or  a  cast-away  i)ud; 

A  cap  for  the  lady,  a  frock  for  the  baby, 

Or  a  top-cout  lor  rajjrycd  ould  Patrick  MacPhudd. 

**  May  the  saint  blessings  send  you,  and  always  deftfiid  you 
From  pestilence,  famine,  from  thunder  and  liood  ; 

May  archangels  <j;uard  you,  and  Mary  reward  you," 
Says  the  oily  ould  father,  Patrick  MacPhudd. 

Ould  Patrick  so  }rrateful.  sends  out  for  the  nadeful, 
And  drinks  till  he  lies  likn  a  pig  in  the  irmd  ; 

There  his  wife  too  is  lying,  while  the  children  are  ciyi'ig, 
And  botl»  are  well  tluashed  by  sweet  Patrick  MacPhudd. 

Every  day  he  is  muddled — every  night  he  g<^ls  fuddled, 

On  p;iy-days  he's  tiglitiiig  and  covered  with  blood; 
He's  a  Uatliolic  Simda}*,  and  a  Protestant  Monday — 
"  Och,  I'll  not  tell  a  lie,"  says  honest  MacPhudd. 

*'  You  thundering  ould  blackguard,"  says  Father  MacTaggort; 

The  Priest  trembled  over  with  rage  where  he  stood  ; 
"Is  it  true  ye're  couvarted,  and  by  swaddlers  pervarted  ? 

Look  me  straight  in  the  face,  and  deny  it,  MacPhudd." 

"  Couvarted  !  Parvavted  !  "  howled  Pat  broken-hearted, 
"  I  wish  I  could  drink  up  her  Protestant  blood; 

I  vow  by  Saint  Peter,  I'd  roast  her  and  eat  her. 

And  crunch  all  her  bones,"  says  sweet  darling  MacPhudd, 

And  now  all  good  ladies,  who  visit  bad  Paddies, 
Be  advised  just  to  let  them  keep  quiet  in  the  mud, 

And  spend  all  your  labours  on  da'^ent  Scotch  neiijhbours, 
And  not  on  ould  blackguards  like  Patrick  MacPhudd. 

December,  1856. 


'The  Waggin'  o'  our  Dog's  Tail,'  in  which  were 
embodied  the  supposed  reflections  of  his  dog  Skye 
upon  men  and  manners,  was  frequently  sung  by  him 

first  departs  out  of  sii,'ht  like  an  eagle,  then  returns  as  a  servant  to 
our  kitchen  to  make  itself  useful — the  true  thus  ending  always  in  the 
practical — so  do  these  grand  sjieculations  lead  to  this  agreeable  con- 
clusion, thiit,  ./or  tlie present  <jemr(iln>n,  at  least,  savages  and  civilised, 
cler;-'y  and  laity,  may  snulf  and  j)artake  oven  of  Athole  brose  without 
any  fear  of  their  noses  becoming  a  burden  to  themselves  or  a  terror  to 
tho  country.' 

"  Wo  are  glad  to  serve  the  cause  of  Science  by  communicating  thin 
si)lendid  rc-ult  of  its  profoiuid  researches  to  the  world!  " 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  221 

in  later  years.  The  earnest,  meditative  countenance, 
and  the  quaint  accentuation  with  which  he  rendered 
it,  accompanied  by  a  suggestive  twirl  of  his  thumb, 
to  indicate  the  approving  '  wag '  of  the  tail,  lent 
indescribable  drollery  to  the  words. 

"  THE  WAGGIN'  0'  OUR  DOG'S  TAIL.'* 

Air, — "  The  larrin^  0'  the  door," 

"We  hae  a  dog  that  wags  his  tail 

(He's  a  bit  o'  a  wag  himsel'  O  !) 
Every  day  lie  gangs  down  the  town, 
At  nicht  his  news  to  tell  0  ! 

The  waggin'  o'  our  dog's  tail,  bow-wow  I 
The  waggin'  o'  our  dog's  tail  I 

He  saw  the  Provost  o'  the  town, 

Parading  down  the  street  0  ! 
Quo'  he,  "  Ye're  no  like  my  lord, 

Eor  ye  cauna  see  your  feet  0  !  " 

The  waggin',  &o. 

He  saw  a  iruin  grown  unco'  poor, 

And  looking  sad  and  sick  0  ! 
Quo'  he,  "  Cheer  up,  for  ilka  dog 

Has  aye  a  bane  to  pick  O  !  " 

The  waggin',  &o. 

He  saw  a  man  wi'  mony  a  smile, 

Wi'out  a  grain  o'  sowl  0  ! 
Quo'  he,  "  I've  noticed  mony  a  dog. 

Could  bite  and  never  growl  0  !" 

The  waggin',  &o. 

He  saw  a  man  look  grufif  and  cross, 

Wi'out  a  grain  o'  spite  0  ! 
Quo'  he,  "  He's  like  a  hantle  *  dogs 

Whose  bark  is  waur  than  their  bite  O  I** 
The  waggin',  &g. 

He  saw  an  M.P.  unco'  proud. 

Because  o'  power  and  pay  O  ! 
Quo'  he,  "  Ter  tail  is  cockit  heigh. 

But  ilka  dog  has  his  day  0  !  " 

The  waggin',  to. 


*  « 


Many.' 


122  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

lie  saw  soni'j  ininisters  fighting  hard, 
And  a'  frae  a  bit  o'  pride  O  ! 

"  It's  a  pity,"  quo'  he,  "  when  dogs  fa'  out 
Aboot  their  ain  firehide  O  !  " 

The  waggin',  &c. 

He  8&,w  a  man  gaun  staggerin'  hame, 
His  face  baith  black  and  blue  O  ! 

Quo'  he,  "I'm  ashamed  o'  the  stupid  brato^ 
For  never  a  dog  gets  fou'  O  !  " 

The  waggin',  &c. 

He  saw  a  man  wi'  a  hairj-  face, 
Wi'  beard  and  big  moustache  O  ! 

Quo'  he,  "  We  baith  are  towsy  dogs. 
But  ye  hae  claes  and  cash  0  !  " 

The  waggin',  &o. 

He  saw  a  crowd  in  a  bonny  park. 

Where  dogs  were  not  allowed  0  ! 

Quo'  he,  "  The  rats  in  Knk  and  State, 

If  we  were  there  might  rue't  O  !  " 

The  waggin,'  &0. 

He  saw  a  man  that  fleeched  *  a  lord. 

And  tlatterin'  Ices  did  tell  0  ! 
Quo'  he,  "A  dog's  owre  proud  lor  that. 

He'll  only  claw  hitiisol'  O  !  " 

The  waggin',  &c. 

He  saw  a  doctor  drivin'  about. 

An'  ringing  every  bell  0  ! 
Quo'  he,  "  I've  been  as  sick's  a  dog, 

But  I  aye  could  cure  mysel'  0  !  " 

The  w;iggin',  &0. 

He  heard  a  lad  and  leddie  braw 

Singin'  a  grand  duet  0  ! 
Quo'  he,  "  I've  heard  a  cat  and  dog 

Could  yowl  as  weel  as  that  0  !  " 

The  waggin',  &©• 

He  saw  a  laddie  swaggorin'  big 
Frae  tap  to  tae  sao  trim  0  ! 

Quo'  he,  "  It's  no'  for  a  dog  to  laugh 
That  ance  was  a  pup  like  him  O  !  " 

The  waggin',  &0. 

Our  doggie  he  cam'  hame  at  e'en. 
And  scarted  baith  his  lugs  0  ! 

Quo'  ho,  "If  folk  had  only  tails. 

They'd  be  maist  as  {iudo  as  dogs  O  !  " 
The  waggin',   &o. 

*  'Flattered.' 


S03fE  CHARACTERISTICS.  223 

Another  of  his  favourite  sangs  was  one  which  he 
composed  while  on  a  visit  to  a  friend  in  Ayrshire, 
who  was  an  enthusiastic  curl(;r.  Norman,  who  never 
even  attempted  to  curl,  heartily  enjoyed  the  exciting 
scene  on  the  ice,  and  the  keenness  displayed  by 
'tenant  and  laird'  as  they  strove  together  for  th3 
honours  of  the  '  roaring  game '' : — 

CURLING  SONG.* 

Air. — "  Come  under  my  plaidie." 

A'  niclit  it  was  freezin',  a'  nicht  I  was  sneezin', 

"  Tak'  care,"  quo'  the  wife,  "  Gudeman,  o'  yer  cough." 
A  fig  for  the  sneezin',  hurrah  for  the  freezin', 

For  the  day  we're  to  play  the  Bonspiel  on  the  loch  ! 
Then  get  up,  my  braw  leddy,  the  breakfast  mak'  ready, 

For  the  sun  on  the  snaw  drift's  beginniu'  to  blink, 
Gie  me  bannocks  or  brocban,  I'm  atf  to  the  lochan, 
To  mak'  the  staues  flee  to  th.3  '  T  '  o'  the  rink. 

Then  hurrah  for  the  curling  true  Girvan  to  Stirling  ! 

Hurrah  for  the  lads  o'  the  besom  and  stane  ! 
Eeady  noo  !    Soop  it  up  !     Clap  a  guard  !    Steady  noo ! 
Oh  curling  abune  a'  the  games,  stands  alane. 

The  ice  it  is  splendid,  it  canna  be  mended. 

Like  a  glass  ye  can  glowr  in't  an'  shave  aff  yer  beard  ; 
And  see  how  they  gaither,  comin'  owre  the  brown  heather. 

The  master  and  servants,  the  tenant  and  laird. 
There's  braw  J.  0.  Fairlie,  he's  there  late  and  early, 

Better  curlers  than  he  or  Hugh  Conn  canna  be  ; 
Wi'  the  lads  frae  Kilwinnin',  they'll  send  the  stanes  spinnin,' 

Wi'  a  whurr  and  a  cmr,  till  they  sit  roun'  the  '  T.' 

Then  hurrah  for  the  curling,  &c. 

It's  an  unco'  like  story,  that  baith  Whig  and  Tory, 

Maun  aye  collyshangy,f  like  dogs  owre  a  bane, 
An'  that  a'  denominations  are  wantin'  in  patience, 

For  nae  Kirk  will  thole  J  to  let  ithers  alane. 
But  in  fine  frosty  weather,  let  a'  meet  thegither, 

Wi'  brooms  in  their  hauns,  an'  a  stane  near  the  '  T ' ; 
Then  Ha !  Ha  !  by  my  certies,  ye'U  see  hoo  a'  parties 

Like  brithers  will  love,  and  like  brithers  agree ! 

Then  hurrah  for  the  curlin',  &c, 

♦  This  song  was  afterwards  published  m  Blackwood's  Maffaziiie. 
t  'Quarrel.'  t  'Endure.' 


2  2+  /.  JFE  OF  NORMA  N  MA  CLEOD. 

His  way  of  truiiiing  liis  children  was  a  practical 
illustr.jtion  of  the  teaching  given  to  parents  in  his 
'  Iloine  School.'  The  key-note  of  it  all  was  loving 
companionship.  He  was  so  much  in  sympathy  with 
them  that  he  seemed  to  grow  with  their  growth  from 
their  earliest  years.  When  he  was  worn  out  with  study 
his  resort  was  the  nursery,  where  he  would  invent  all 
sorts  of  games,  turn  chairs  upside  down  to  represent 
ships,  rig  up  newspapers  as  mimic  sails,  and  give 
the  baby  an  imaginary  voyage  round  the  room.  Or 
he  would  in  the  evenings  lie  on  the  sofa  or  floor,  with 
all  the  little  ones  nestled  about  him,  listening  to 
music,  or  telling  them  the  wonderful  adventures  of 
'Little  Mrs.  Brown'  and  'Abel  Feragus.'  These 
stories  went  on  like  the  Arabian  lights,  with  new 
incidents  invented  for  each  fresh  occasion.  They 
were  all  told  dramatically,  and  often  the  fun  was 
so  great  that  he  would  himself  laugh  as  heartily 
as  the  children.  But  he  had  a  higher  object  in 
view  than  mere  amusement  when  composing  his 
nursery  tales;  they  were  never  without  an  under- 
current of  moral  teaching,  and  never  failed  to 
impress  lessons  of  kindness,  generosity,  bravery,  and 
truth. 

He  never  left  home  for  any  length  of  time  without 
bringing  some  little  memento  to  each  child,  and  to 
each  servant  as  well. 

Carrying  out  this  principle  of  companionship  with 
his  children,  he  would  watch  for  their  return  when 
they  had  been  at  any  holiday  entertainment,  and 
have  them  '  tell  from  the  beginning '  all  they  had 
Been  and  heard.      When  in    the   Highlands  during 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  225 

summer,  he  entered  like  one  of  themselves  into  all 
their  amusements.  They  remember  with  special 
delight  one  moonlight  night,  when,  sciatica  not- 
withstanding, he  insisted  on  playing  '  Hide  and  Seek ' 
with  them,  and  became  so  excited  with  the  game, 
that  although  both  shoes  had  fallen  off,  he  continued 
rushing  over  the  grass  and  through  the  buslies  till 
they  were  all  exhausted,  his  wife  in  vain  entreating 
him  to  take  care.  His  desire  was,  in  short,  to 
possess  their  frank  confidence,  and  to  make  their 
memory  of  home  thoroughly  happy,  and  in  both  these 
respects  his  etforts  were  rewarded  with  abundant 
success.  It  was  quite  characteristic  of  him  that  he 
made  it  a  principle  always  to  keep  his  word  with  his 
children,  even  in  trifles,  and  to  avoid  the  irritation  of 
fiiult-finding  in  little  things.  Only  on  two  points  was 
he  uncompromising  even  to  sternness.  The  slightest 
appearance  of  selfishness  or  of  want  of  truth  was  at 
once  severely  dealt  with ;  but  when  the  rebuke  was 
given,  there  was  an  end  of  it,  and  he  took  pains  to 
make  the  culprit  feel  that  confidence  was  completely 
restored,  for  he  believed  that  the  preservation  of  self- 
respect  was  as  important  a  point  as  any  in  the  educa- 
tion of  a  child. 

These  summers,  spent  with  his  family  in  the  High- 
lands, were  full  of  a  glory  which  every  year  seemed 
only  to  deepen.  Whether  at  his  favourite  Cuilchenna, 
on  the  Linnhe  Loch  with  its  majestic  views  of  Glencoe 
or  Glengoar,  or  at  Java  Lodge  in  Mull,  commanding 
'  one  of  the  finest  panoramas  in  Europe,'  or  at  Aird's 
Bay,  fronting  the  Buachaill  Etive  and  Ben  Cruachan, 
or  at  Geddes,  with  its  hallowed  associations,  he  entered 

VOL.    II.  Q 


226  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

into  the  joy  of  nature  with  a  rapture  even  greater  than 
in  youth. 

He  thus  describes  the  scenery  round  Cuilchcnna : — 

"  Suppose  ourselves  seated  on  a  green  headland,  rising 
a  few  hundred  feet  above  the  sea-level.  In  itself  this 
elevation  is  remarkable  for  nothing  more  than  the  greenest 
of  grass  ;  consequently,  in  the  estimation  of  the  shejjherd, 
it  is  one  of  the  '  best  places  for  wintering  sheep  ; '  and  it  is 
the  more  fitted  for  such  a  purpose  owing  to  its  being  broken 
up  by  innumerable  hollows  and  dykes  of  trap,  which 
atford  shelter  to  the  sheep  from  every  wind.  Moreover 
the  snow  seldom  lies  here,  as  it  is  speedily  thawed  by  the 
breath  of  the  temperate  sea.  It  has  its  own  secluded 
spots  of  Highland  beauty,  too,  though  these  are  seldom, 
if  ever,  visited  by  any  one  save  the  solitary  herd-boy.  In 
these  nooks,  nature,  as  if  rejoicing  in  the  undisturbed 
contem[)lation  of  her  own  grace  and  loveliness,  lavishly 
grows  her  wild  flowers  and  spreads  out  her  drooping  ferns. 
Nay,  slic  seems  unconsciously  to  adorn  herself  with  tufts 
of  primroses,  bluebells,  and  crimson  heather,  and  slyly 
retires  into  little  recesses,  to  enter  which  one  has  to  put 
aside  the  brancheG  of  mountain  ash  clothed  with  bunches 
of  coral  fruit,  as  well  as  the  weeping  bhcli  and  hazel,  in 
order  to  get  a  glimpse  of  the  rivulet  which  tuhishes 
between  banks  glorious  with  green  mosses,  hchens,  fems, 
honeysuckle,  and  wild  roses.  In  the  spring  such  recesses 
are  a  very  home  of  love  for  piping  birds.  At  the  base  of 
our  unlvuown,  untrodden  promontory,  are  clefts  and  caves, 
worn  and  cut  into  the  strangest  shapes  by  the  everlast- 
ing beat  of  the  ocean  tides.  In  each  round  rocky  bowl, 
filled  with  pure  sea-water,  is  a  forest  of  fairy-like  trees 
of  all  colours,  strangely  mingled  —  brown,  green,  and 
white.  Molluscs,  and  fish  almost  microscopic,  together 
Avith  a  solitary  crab  here  and  there,  move  about  in  this 
their  little  world  of  beauty,  in  Avhich,  to  the  observer, 
there  seems  indeed  to  be  nothing  but  purity  and  joy. 

"  But  the  grand  and  commanding  object  at  the  head  of 
Loch  Leven  is  Glencoe.  Seen  from  our  promontory,  its 
precipices  rise  like  a  huge  wall,  dark  as  though  built  of 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  227 

lava.  Tremendous  Inittresses,  from  base  to  summit,  dis- 
engage  themselves  from  their  surface,  and  separated  from 
each  other  by  depths  such  as  might  have  been  cut  and 
cloven  by  Thor's  great  hammer,  wielded  in  stormy  passion. 
The  mountain  is  scored  across,  too,  by  deep  lines  and 
platforms  of  trap,  as  though  they  marked  the  successive 
floods  of  molten  rock  poured  out  by  volcanic  forces. 
Nothing  can  be  more  utterly  sombre,  sad,  and  desolate 
than  this  Glencoe.  We  have  watched  it  in  its  every  mood  ; 
sometimes  when  it  seemed  to  sleep  like  a  wearied  giant, 
wrapped  in  the  sun-mist ;  sometimes  when  it  began  to 
arrest  the  western  clouds,  until,  as  if  overcome  by  their 
stifling  power,  they  covered  it  with  impenetrable  masses 
black  as  night  ;  or,  again,  when  slowly  and  solemnly  it 
unveiled  itself  after  the  storm,  and  the  sun  crept  up  to  it, 
after  visiting  the  green  fields  and  trees  below,  and  pouring 
itself  on  white  cottages  and  the  sails  of  fishing-boats,  until 
at  last  it  scattered  the  clouds  from  the  dark  precipices 
and  sent  the  mists  flying — not  fiercely  but  kindly,  not 
hastily  but  slowly — in  white  smoke  up  the  glens,  tinging 
with  auroral  light  the  dark  ridge  as  they  streamed  over 
it,  while  the  infinite  sky  appeared  without  a  cloud  over 
all,  and  as  if  supported  by  the  mighty  pillars  of  the  glen. 

"  Turning  to  the  east  the  scene  is  still  characteristic  of 
our  Highlands.  To  right  and  left,  to  north  and  south,  is 
the  sea-river  of  AA'hich  we  have  spoken.  Southward,  it 
flows  past  the  green  Lismore,  on  past  Oban,  Mull,  until  it 
is  lost  between  misty  headlands  in  the  far  Atlantic,  whose 
waves  boom  on  the  western  steeps  of  Jura. 

"  The  scenery  to  the  west,  which  hems  in  this  stretch 
of  inland  sea,  is  utterly  desolate. 

"  .  .  .  .  Amidst  this  scenery  we  spent  a  considerable 
portion  of  last  siummer,  and  gazed  on  it  from  day  to  day, 
and  from  morn  to  even,  with  delight  and  reverence.  We 
have  fished  along  its  sea-coast  almost  every  evening. 

"  What  unsurpassed  glories  have  we  thus  witnessed  ! 
It  verily  seemed  to  us  then  as  though  the  setting  sun 
dropped  down  nearer  earth  to  concentrate  all  his  powers 
on  that  one  landscape ;  to  display  untold  beauty  and 
Bdom  it  with  glory  from  the  head   of  the  western  glen 

Q  2 


2x8  LIFE  OF  .\ORMAN  MACLEOD. 

above  the  loch  down  to  the  sea  ;  and  compelling  even 
dark  Glencoe,  as  well  as  the  surrounding  hills,  to  do  it 
honour  and  bow  before  it  with  their  golden  crowns  and 
purple  robes.  First  of  all,  the  sun  began  to  collect  round 
himself  clouds  spread  out  into  seas,  grouped  into  islets, 
with  colours  such  as  no  pen  or  pencil  has  ever  conveyed 
the  faintest  impression  of.  Then  beams  of  soft  silver 
sheen  shot  through  every  crossing  valley  and  dowD 
through  every  cleft  and  cranny  in  the  serrated  ridges 
penetrating  the  nether  dimness,  illuminating  the  curling 
smoke  of  the  valleys,  and  transfiguring  the  dark  pines 
and  precipices,  and  lighting  up  hidden  corners.  It 
touched  the  green  pastures  of  the  shores  of  Loch  Leven 
as  with  a  magic  rod  ;  it  kindled  tlie  mountain  ridges  to 
the  east,  so  that  these,  after  all  the  lower  valleys  were 
dark,  retained  the  light  of  day.  Having  glorified  Glencoe 
from  base  to  summit,  it  concentrated  its  beams,  ere 
parting,  on  the  loftiest  peaks,  until  they  shone  in  a 
subdued  ruby  light,  and  then  they  were  tipped  with  such 
bright  burnished  gold  as  is  never  seen  anywhere  except  on 
the  icy  aiguilles  of  the  Alps.  Gradually  the  halo  seemed 
to  pass  from  earth  to  heaven,  and  lingered  for  a  space 
among  the  clouds  with  that  splendour  and  wonder  of 
glory  so  overpowering  yet  so  variable — a  revelation  of  the 
Almighty  Artist,  which,  once  seen,  remains  a  precious  gift 
stored  in  the  memory,  never  to  fade  away  ! 

"  On  these  evenings  the  marvel  nearest  to  the  eye  was 
the  appearance  of  the  sea !  It  was  wholly  indescribable. 
But  merely  to  mention  it  will  recall  similar  spectacles  to 
others.  The  waves  undulated  in  gentle  swell  with  a 
heavy,  dull  molten  hue.  Save  for  the  movements  of 
flocks  of  birds,  which  swam  and  dived  wherever  the 
shoals  of  fish  disturbed  its  glassy  surface, -it  seemed  cold 
and  dead.  But  as  the  setting  sun  began  to  kindle  its 
waves  with  subdued  lights,  aided  by  glowing  cloud  and 
mountain  of  every  imaginable  hue,  there  spread  over  the 
wide  expanse  of  still  water  such  a  combination  of  colours 
• — ruby,  amethyst,  purple,  blue,  green,  and  grey — gleam- 
ing, sparkling,  and  interchanging  like  the  Aurora,  until 
every   gentle    undulation    was    more    gorgeous    than    the 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  229 

robes  of  Eastern  kings,  when  unrolled  from  the  looms  of 
Benares !  "* 

These  scenes  afforded  him  more  than  'tranquil 
restoration ; '  they  were  a  continual  '  passion  and 
delight.'  And  the  joy  they  conveyed  to  him  he  tried 
to  share  with  his  children,  in  this,  as  in  so  many  other 
things,  evincing  his  eagerness  to  recreate  for  them 
the  same  Highland  associations  as  had  made  his  own 
early  days  so  happy.  N^one  of  his  boys  showed  more 
excitement  than  he  when  they  were  out  fishing  on  the 
loch,  and  when  there  happened  to  be  a  good  '  take.' 
On  the  croquet  green,  competing  with  his  children,  he 
was  the  keenest  of  the  party.  When  a  chance  piper 
arrived,  and  the  floor  was  cleared  for  a  reel,  he  heartily 
enjoyed  and  cheerily  applauded  the  merriment  of  the 
dancers.  What  he  felt  at  such  times  he  has  thus 
expressed : — 

"  '  Dance,  my  cliildren  !  lads  and  lasses  I 
Cut  and  shuffle,  toes  and  heels  I 
Pijjer,  roar  from  every  chanter 
Hurricanes  of  Highland  reels  I 

"  '  Make  the  old  barn  shake  with  laughter. 
Beat  its  flooring  like  a  drum ; 
Batter  it  with  TuUochgorum, 
Till  the  storm  without  is  dumb  I 

**  *  Sweep  in  circles  like  a  whirlwind, 
FHt  across  like  meteors  glancing ; 
Crack  your  fingers,  shout  in  gladness, 
Think  of  nothing  but  of  dancing !  * 

"  Thus  a  grey-haired  father  speaketh. 
As  he  claps  his  hand  and  cheers ; 
Yet  his  heart  is  quietly  dreaming. 
And  his  eyes  are  dimmed  with  tears. 

*  From  an  Essay  on  Higliland  Scenery  which  he  wrote  for  a  volumes 
published  at  her  Majesty's  desire,  illustrative  of  "  Mountain,  Loch, 
and  Glen." 


»30  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  "Well  lie  knows  this  worW  of  soirow. 
Well  he  knows  this  world  of  sin, 
Well  he  knows  the  race  befcire  them, 
What's  to  lose,  and  what's  to  win  I 

*'  But  he  hears  a  far  off  music, 

Guiding  all  the  statelj'  spheres, 
In  his  father-heart  it  echoes, 

So  he  claps  his  hands  and  cheers." 

This  participation  in  the  amusements  of  his  childi  en 
passed  naturally,  as  they  grew  older,  into  the  higher 
companionship  of  sharing  all  their  pursuits  and  studies. 
His  method  of  conveying  to  them  religious  instruction 
was  as  eifective  as  it  was  simple.  He  trained  them  to 
speak  to  him  on  religious  subjects,  and  tell  him  their 
difficulties,  and  so  educated  them  in  the  truest  sense. 
Especially  in  later  years,  when  his  Sunday  evenings 
were  not  so  fully  occupied  with  public  duty,  he  spent 
hours  that  Avere  as  happy  to  them  as  to  himself,  in 
hearing  what  they  had  to  say,  while  some  part  of 
Scripture  was  read  in  common.  However  trivial  the 
idea  or  the  difficulty  of  the  child  might  seem  to 
others,  he  always  dealt  carefully  with  it,  and  tried  by 
means  of  it  to  impress  some  principle  which  was  worth 
remembering.  'When  I  asked  him  about  anything 
I  did  not  understand,'  AArites  one  of  his  daughters, 
*  my  dear  father  would  say,  '  That's  right.  On  your 
way  through  life  you'll  come  across  many  a  stum- 
bling-block that  you  will  think  quite  impassable,  but 
always  come  to  your  father,  for  he's  an  old  traveller 
who  can  show  you  a  path  through  many  a  difficulty.' 
I  treasure  what  he  said  to  me  when  I  spoke  to  him 
about  some  fault  of  natural  temperament.  ^  Don't 
bo  discouraged.  It  involves  in  many  ways  a  benefit. 
The   cure   is   to  think   more  about   God.      Look  at 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  231 

yourself  as  miicli  as  you  can  as  you  think  He 
would  look  at  you,  and  look  on  others  in  the  same 
way.'  Oh  that  I  were  like  him  !  Such  trust,  such 
love,  such  utter  forgetfulness  of  self,  such  sympathy 
and  charity  and  energy  !  Surely  these  things  are 
born  with  people,  and  not  acquirements.  Yet  he  once 
said  to  me,  '  You  have  no  right  to  blame  your  natural 
disposition.  By  so  doing  you  blame  God  who  gave  it 
to  you.     No  quality  is  bad  unless  perverted.' 

There  was  a  characteristic  of  his  later  life  which 
was  the  more  remarkable  that  his  youth  gave  no 
promise  of  it.  He  was  naturally  impatient  of  details, 
careless  about  hours  and  arrangements,  hurried  and 
impulsive,  but  experience  taught  him  the  importance 
of  punctuality  and  forethought,  and  in  later  years  his 
attention  to  minutise,  and  the  careful  and  businesslike 
manner  in  which  he  fulfilled  his  public  engage- 
ments, surprised  those  who  had  known  him  with 
other  habits. 

His  later  manner  of  preaching  differed  from  his 
earlier,  and  as  a  rule,  admitting  many  exceptions, 
partook  more  of  the  nature  of  teaching — sometimes 
of  homely  talk — than  of  set  discourse.  Simplicity 
was  its  constant  characteristic,  but  there  was  more ; 
for  ever  and  anon  came  bursts  of  indignant  denun- 
ciation against  what  was  mean  or  selfish,  or  brief  but 
thrilling  touches  of  imagination  or  pathos  that  broke 
the  even  flow  of  instruction.  '  His  style  reminds 
me,'  said  an  auditor,  who  was  himself  a  celebrated 
preacher,  '  of  the  smooth  action  of  a  large  engine, 
moving  with  the  ease  of  great  power  held  in  re- 
straint.'    '  It  was  not,'  says  another  hearer,  '  so  much 


23*  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

what  is  called  earnest  preaching,  as  the  speaking  of 
a  powerful  and  earnest  man  who  ^\ished  to  do  you 
good,  and  threw  everything  else  aside  for  that  end.' 

"  I  am  persuaded  we  will  all  acknowledge  that  we  never 
listened  to  any  man  whose  word  came  so  home  to  the 
lieart.  For  myself,  at  least,  I  can  say  that  no  iireachcr 
ever  had  such  power  over  me  ;  nor  was  the  secret  of  his 
power  hard  to  discover,  .  .  .  That*  which  told  more 
than  all  upon  me  was  the  total  absence  of  all  thought  of 
self  which  characterised  his  preaching.  While  listening 
to  him,  the  thought  never  crossed  my  mind  tliat  he  had 
been  making  a  sennon.  Wliether  composed  in  his  study, 
or  left,  as  was  so  often  the  case,  to  such  language  as  the 
impulse  of  the  moment  might  suggest,  his  sermons  ahvays 
appeared  to  me  of  a  purely  extemporaneous  character  ; 
because  whether  wholly  or  partially  written,  or  not  written 
at  all,  they  were  the  spontaneous  outflo^\^ng  of  his  heart 
at  the  moment,  with  no  more  art  or  effort  than  what  is 
seen  in  the  natural  rush  of  one  of  his  owti  loved  Highland 
rivers ;  clear,  and  deep,  and  strong  as  they,  but  with  as 
little  consciousness  of  any  private  aim,  or  any  desire  to 
gratify  a  selfish  feeling  or  to  win  human  praise."  * 

"  Other  preachers  we  have  heard,"  wrote  Dean  Stanley 
in  the  Times,  "  both  in  England  and  France,  more  learned, 
more  elocpient,  more  penetrating  to  particular  audiences, 
but  no  preacher  has  arisen  within  our  experience,  with  an 
equal  power  of  riveting  the  general  attention  of  the  varied 
congregations  of  modern  times  ....  none  who  so  com- 
bined the  self-control  of  the  jirej^ared  discourse  with  the 
directness  of  extemporaneous  effort  ;  none  with  whom  the 
sermon  a})i)proached  so  nearly  to  its  original  and  proper 
idea — of  a  conversation — a  serious  conversation,  in  which 
the  fleeting  thought,  the  unconscious  objection  of  the 
listener,  seemed  to  be  readily  caught  up  by  a  passing 
parenthesis — a  qualifying  word   of  the   speaker  ;  so   that, 

*  From  a  sermon  ontitlod  "  Tho  Tfoarnr's  Responsibility,"  ])rcached 
in  the  Barony  Church  on  tlio  I'ith  Juuuury,  IST^J,  by  the  Rev.  AViliiani 
Robertson,  D.D.,  of  Now  Greyt'riars,  Eilinbur-jh,  on  the  occasion  of 
his  introducing  the  Rev.  Dr.  Lang  us  successor  to  Dr.  Macleod. 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  233 

in  short,  the  speaker  seemed  to  throw  himself  with  the 
whole  force  of  his  soul  on  the  minds  of  his  hearers,  led 
captive  against  their  will  by  something  more  than  elo- 
quence." 

Although  at  one  period  he  occasionally  wrote  his 
sermon  seven  times  over  before  he  preached  it,  there 
were  years  during  which  he  seldom  wrote  any  dis- 
course fully  out.*  but  preached  from  notes  in  which 
the  sequence  of  ideas  was  clearly  marked.  These 
notes,  though  often  jotted  on  Saturday  afternoon,  were 
the  result  of  constant  cogitation  during  the  week. 

As  might  have  been  expected  from  his  tempera- 
ment, he  was  deeply  interested  in  the  movements  of 
modern  thought.  As  he  had  long  forecast  the  coming 
storm  in  the  theological  atmosphere,  he  was  not  taken 
aback  by  its  approach,  and,  in  order  that  his  hearers 
should  be  prepared  for  it,  he  was  in  the  habit  of 
enforcing  guiding  principles,  rather  than  of  discussing 
special  questions.  The  ground  which  lie  generally 
took  was  moral  more  than  intellectual.  Without 
ignoring  the  issues  raised  by  modern  inquiry,  he 
sought,  as  the  ultimate  basis  of  religious  conviction, 
to  appeal  to  the  moral  instincts,  and  to  reach  that 
spirit  in  man,  which  he  believed  is  bound  to  recognize 
the  spiritual  glory  of  God  on  the  face  of  Christ,  as 
much  as  intellect  is  bound  to  confess  the  conclusions 

•  Ee  was  once  preaching  in  a  district  in  Ayrshire,  where  the  read- 
ing of  a  sermon  is  regarded  as  the  greatest  fault  of  which  a  minister 
can  be  guilty.  When  the  congregation  dispersed,  an  old  woman 
overflowing  with  enthusiasm,  addressed  her  neighboiu",  "  Did  ye  ever 
hear  onything  sae  gran'?  Was  na  that  a  sermon?"  But  all  her 
expressions  of  admiration  being  met  by  stolid  silence,  she  shouted, 
"  Speak,  woman  !  Was  na  that  a  sermon  ?  "  "  Ou  aye,"  replied  her 
friend  sulkily,  "but  he  read  it."  "  Eead  it!"  said  the  other  with 
indignant  emphasis,  "I  wadna  hae  cared  if  he  had  ivhusiled  it  ! '" 


234  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

of  reason.  lie  clung  with  such  firm  faith  to  Christ, 
and  loved  God  with  such  fulness  of  childlike  affec- 
tion ;  holy  Scripture  was  to  him  so  verily  the  Word 
of  God  ;  and  its  salient  truths  were  so  self-evident  to 
his  heart  and  conscience,  that  no  verbal  criticism,  no 
logic  of  the  lower  understanding,  could  for  a  moment 
shake  his  loyalty  to  the  eternal  fitness  of  the  revelation 
of  love  and  holiness  in  Christ  which  was  self-evident 
to  his  spirit.  But  while  he  was  thus  firmly 
anchored  to  essential  catholic  beliefs,  he  '  could  swing 
with  a  free  cable,'  as  he  used  to  say,  in  reference  to 
many  minor  questions.  For  that  hard  negative  criti- 
cism, whose  only  instrument  is  keen  or  coarse  intel- 
lect, and  which  is  prepared  with  callous  determination 
to  deny  whatever  cannot  be  logically  demonstrated, 
he  had  no  liking.  He  was  too  sympathetic  not  to  be 
deeply  afi'ected  by  the  religious  doubts  and  difficulties 
which  were  pressing  as  a  heavy  burden  on  many, 
who  in  utter  perplexity  were  crying  for  light.  But 
some  of  the  theories  of  modern  critics,  some  of  the 
most  portentous  attacks  on  the  faith,  provoked  his 
sense  of  humour  more  than  his  alarm.  '  The  devil 
is  far  too  clever,'  he  would  say,  'not  to  be  intensely 
amused  at  all  this.  What  frightful  fools  those  men 
must  seem  to  him !  Can  j^ou  not  imagine  how 
Mephisto,  when  he  is  alone,  must  chuckle  at  the 
absurdities  of  which  clever  men  can  be  guilty  ? ' 

nis  manner  of  treating  doubters  was  powerful  and 
sj^npathctic.  After  one  or  two  straight  cuts  of  com- 
mon sense  or  humour  had  sundered  the  meshes  of 
sophistical  argumentation,  he  would  carry  his  auditors 
away  from  doubtful  disputations,  into  the  wide  pure 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  235 

heaven  of  his  own  convictions  and  aspirations,  appeal 
to  what  was  most  hnman  in  them,  enlist  every  bettor 
sympathy  on  his  side,  and  flash  light  into  the 
mysterious  depths  of  conscience.  Many  a  man  beset 
by  difficulty  on  '  questions  of  the  day,'  came  away 
from  his  teaching,  not  perhaps  feeling  every  doubt 
removed,  but  under  the  sense  that  truths  had  been 
spoken  which  '  could  perish  never,'  and  that  convec- 
tions had  been  awakened  which  no  chatter  of  the 
schools  could  destroy. 

His  frequent  lamentations  over  (hat  deficiency  in 
pastoral  work,  which  was  forced  on  him  in  later  years 
by  the  pressure  of  public  duty,  may  convey  a  false 
impression  of  the  extent  to  which  this  held  true.  It 
was  certainly  impossible  for  him  to  visit  his  congre- 
gation as  he  once  did,  but  the  sick  and  distressed 
were  never  forgotten  by  him ;  and  those  who  knew 
anything  of  his  ministry  at  such  times  bear  witness 
to  the  wonderful  tenderness  of  his  sympathy,  and 
delight  to  tell  how  his  eye  would  swim  with  tears,  and 
how  the  minutest  circumstance  of  each  case  was  atten- 
tively considered  by  him.  His  power,  indeed,  out  of 
the  pulpit  as  well  as  in  it,  lay  in  that  genuine  big- 
heartedness  which  everywhere  claimed  and  inspii'ed 
confidence. 

"  I  write  as  one  who  knows,  whose  own  burden  has  been 
made  easier  by  him,  as  one  around  whom  his  arms  have 
been,  and  on  whose  cheek  the  kiss  of  his  deep  sympathy 
has  fallen.  Few,  indeed,  who  knew  him  only  as  the 
genial  companion,  the  ready  platform  speaker,  or  the 
powerful  preacher,  can,  even  remotely,  conceive  of  the  way 
he  had  of  talking  to,  and  acting  upon,  human  hearts,  xvlien 
alone  with  them.      It  was  then  that  the  glory  of  the  man 


2^6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

cnme  out  ;  tiien  you  knew  \\\\\\  wliat  a  vision  lie  saw  into 
you  and  comprehended  you  ;  then  he  spoke  words  that 
went  straight  into  your  soul,  and  carried  heab'ng  with 
them,  for  he  never  kept  you  down  to  himself,  but  took 
you  up  with  himself  to  the  Father.  I  cannot  say  what  is 
in  my  heart  to  say,  but  this  one  thing  I  would  like  all  who 
have  never  been  alone  with  him  when  spiritual  things 
were  spoken  about,  to  believe  and  know,  that  he  was  a 
grander,  broader,  deeper,  diviner  man  than  he  could  ever 
have  appeared  to  you  to  be.  Nearly  thirteen  years  ago, 
as  a  young  lad,  a  stranger  to  this  country,  I  first  met  him, 
and  from  that  hour  his  great  heart,  which  always  warmed 
to  the  stranger,  was  ever  ready  to  open,  and  his  kindly 
hand  to  help.  When  I  went  abroad  to  engage  in  the 
work  which  lay  nearest  his  own  heart,  it  was  with  no 
formal  prayer  that  we  parted,  but  one  ever  to  be  remem- 
bered ;  with  no  formal  farewell  of  a  formal  divine,  but 
with  a  loving  embrace  ;  and  when  I  returned,  most  unwil- 
lingly, but  through  necessity,  the  same  arms  were  ready 
to  welcome  me.  This  is  not  the  way  unknown  men  are 
wont  to  be  dealt  Avith  by  known  men  ;  young  men  by  old ; 
men  feebly  struggling,  or  baftied  and  beaten,  by  those  who 
are  secure  on  the  platform  of  life:  but  it  is  the  way  to 
win  souls,  for  all  that,  and  it  was  the  way  in  which  he 
won  many."* 

"  His  power  of  sympathy,"  said  Dr.  Watson,  in  his 
beautiful  funeral  sermon,  "  was   the  first   and  last  thincr  in 

his  character  which  impressed   you I  never  knew 

a  man  bound  to  humanity  at  so  many  points  ;  I  never 
knew  a  man  who  found  in  humanity  so  much  to  interest 
him.  To  him  the  most  commonplace  man  or  woman 
yielded  up  some  contribution  of  individuality,  and  you 
v/ere  tempted  to  wonder  which  of  all  the  various  moods 
through  which  he  passed,  was  the  one  most  congenial  to 
him. 

"  '  When  he  came  to  see  me,'  said  a  blacksmith,  '  he 
epoke  as  if  he  had  been  a  smith  himself,  but  he  never 
went  away  without  leaving  Christ  in  my  heart ! '  " 


•  Letter  from  the  Eev.  C.  M.  Graut. 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  237 

To  his  eldest  SoN  when  he  was  a  very  young  boy  on  a  visit  to  Fiunary. 
The  original  is  carefully  written  in  large  Eoman  letters  : — 

Glasgow,  August  4,  1862. 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  are  in  Morven,  and  so  happy  there 
I  never  was  so  happy  in  all  my  life  as  I  used  to  be  Avhen 
I  was  a  boy  there.  I  think  of  you  as  if  you  were  myself 
young  again.  For  I  fished  with  Sandy  and  uncle  John 
for  cod  among  the  rocks  in  the  bay,  and  in  the  burn 
for  trout,  and  went  to  tlie  Byre  for  warm  milk,  just  as  you 
are  doing.  But  then  all  the  old  terriers  are  dead.  There 
were  Cuilag  and  Gasgach — oh,  such  dogs  !  If  you  saw 
them  worry  an  otter  or  wild  cat  !  They  would  never  give 
in.  Ask  your  uncle  John  about  them,  and  ask  him  to 
show  you  the  otter's  deii  at  Clachoran.  Oh,  jSomniey,  be 
happy !  for  when  you  are  old  like  me  you  will  remember 
Fiunary  as  if  it  was  the  garden  of  Eden  without  the 
serpent. 

"  I  Avish  you  could  remember,  as  I  can,  all  the  dear 
friends  who  were  once  there,  and  who  Avould  have  loved 
you  as  as  they  loved  me — my  grandpapa,  with  his  white 
hair  and  blind  eyes,  and  my  grandmamma,  so  kind  and 
loving ;  and  aunts  Margaret,  Mary,  Grace,  Archy,  Jessy. 
I  see  all  their  faces  now  before  me.  They  were  all  so 
good,  and  loved  God  and  everybody.  Dockie,  dear  !  thank 
God  for  good  friends,  and  for  having  so  many  of  them. 

"  Did  they  show  you  Avhere  I  lived  when  I  was  a  boy, 
and  the  school  I  used  to  be  in  ?  " 

To  his  eldest  Daughter,  when  she  went  to  school  at  Brighton : — 

Glasgow,  April  30,  1865. 

"  Do  you  remember  your  old  father  ?  I'm  not  sure  if 
you  do — old  Abel  Feragus,  the  friend  of  Mrs.  Brown  ? 

"  So  you  were  very  sorry,  old  girl,  when  we  left  you 
that  day  ?  You  thought  you  would  not  care.  Hem !  I 
knew  better. 

"  And  so  the  poor  lassie  cried,  and  was  so  lonely  the 
first  night,  and  would  have  given  worlds  to  be  at  home 
again  !  And  your  old  dad  was  not  a  bit  sorry  to  leave 
you,    not  he — cruel-hearted  man  that   he  is  !      Nor  was 


238  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

your  motlicr,  wretched  old  woman  that  she  is!  And  yet 
'  you  would  wonder  '  how  sorry  we  both  were,  and  how  often 
the  old  man  said  '  Poor  dear  lassie ! '  and  the  old  wife 
'  Poor  dear  darling  •  '  But  no  tear  filled  our  eye.  Are 
you  sure  of  that  ?  I'm  not.  And  the  old  father  said, 
'  I'm  not  afraid  of  my  girl.  I'm  sure  she  will  prove 
herself  good,  kind,  loving,  and  obedient,  and  won't  be 
lazy,  but  do  her  work  like  a  heroine,  and  remember  all 
her  old  dad  told  her  !  '  and  her  mammy  said  the  same. 
And  then  the  mammy  would  cry,  and  the  old  dad  would 
call  her  a  fool  (respectfully).  And  so  we  reached  London, 
and  then  we  got  your  letter,  which  made  us  very  happy  ; 
and  then  the  old  man  said,  '  Never  fear !   she  Avill  do  I'ight 

well,  and  will  be  very  happy,  and  Miss Avill  like  her, 

and  she  will  like    Miss ! '  and  '  We  shall  soon  meet 

again  ! '  chimed  in  the  mammy.  '  If  it  be  God's  will, 
we  shall,'  snid  the  dad,  '  and  Avon't  we  be  happy  ! ' 

"  God  bless  you,  my  darling  !  May  you  love  your  own 
Father  in  heaven  far  more  than  you  love  your  own  father 
on  earth,  and  I  know  how  truly  you  love  me,  and  you 
know  how  truly  I  love  you  ;  but  He  loves  you  intinitely 
more  than  I  can  possibly  do,  though  I  give  you  my  whole 
heart. 

"  Will  you  write  a  line  to  the  old  man  ?  And  remember 
he  won't  criticise  it,  but  be  glad  to  hear  all  your  chatter." 

To  the  S.VME  : — 

"  It  is  now,  I  think,  thirteen  years,  my  dearest  , 


since  your  old  dad  and  your  mother  first  saw  with  joy  and 
gratitude  your  chubby  face,  and  received  you,  their  first- 
born, as  a  gift  from  God.  It  was  indeed  a  solemn  day  to 
your  parents  to  have  had  an  immortal  being  given  to  them, 
whom  they  could  call  their  own  child  ;  and  it  was  a 
solemn  day,  though  you  know  it  not,  for  you,  dearest, 
when  you  began  a  life  which  woidd  never  end.  You  have 
been  a  source  of  great  haiipin(>ss  to  us  ever  since  ;  and 
you  cannot  yet  understand  the  longings,  the  earnest 
prayers  oflVred  up  by  us  both  that  you  may,  by  the  grace 
of  God,   make  your  life   a   source   of  joy  and  blessing  to 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS.  239 

yourself,  and  be  a  joy  to  Jesus  Christ,  to  Whom  you 
belong,  Who  has  redeemed  you  to  God  with  His  own  blood, 
and  Who  loves  you  inconceivably  more  than  your  own  loving 
parents  do.  I  hope,  dearest,  you  will  thank  God  for  all 
His  kindness  to  you — do  speak  your  heart  out  to  Him. 
He  likes  you  to  do  it,  and  I  am  sure  you  do  feel  grateful 
for  your  many  mercies. 

"  Oh,  mv  own  darling!  you  little  know  how  yowr  mother 
and  I  desire  and  pray  for  this,  as  the  one  thing  to  obtain 
which  we  could  suffer  and  die,  that  you  may  love  and  obey 
Jesus  Christ ;  that  you  may  know  Him  and  speak  to  Him, 
trust  Him,  obey  Him,  as  your  Friend,  Brother,  Saviour, 
Who  dearly  loves  you,  and  desires  you  dearly  to  love  Him 
in  return.  There  is  no  blessing  God  could  give  me  in  this 
world  to  be  compared  for  one  moment  to  that  of  seeing 
my  children,  Avho  are  dearer  to  me  than  life  itself,  proving 
themselves  to  be  children  of  God.  Let  me  have  this  joy 
in  you  first,  as  my  first-born  !  God  will  give  the  un- 
speakable blessing  if  you  pray  to  Him,  and  speak  to  Him 
about  it,  simply,  frankly,  as  you  would  speak  to  me — bub 
even  more  confidingly  than  you  could  even  to  me.  In 
the  meantime,  dearie,  thank  Him  for  all  He  has  done  for 
you  and  given  to  you.  I  am  sure  I  thank  Him  for  His 
gift  of  yourself  to  us  both. 

"  I  dare  say  you  have  sometimes  heme  sickness.  Eh  ? 
But  you  cannot  suffer  from  this  youthful  disease  as  much 
as  I  did  when  I  went  first  from  home.  So  you  need  not; 
wonder — at  least  I  do  not — if  you  should  sometimes  think 
yourself  on  the  other  side  of  the  globe,  and  get  into  sad 
fits,  and  weary  longings,  and  think  everything  at  home 
most  beautiful  !  But  this  is  just  a  part  of  our  education, 
and  a  training  for  life,  and  must  be  made  the  most  of 

"  Now  Avrite  to  your  dad,  anyway  you  like.      I    Avon't 

criticise.      Miss won't  look  at  your  letter,  as  I  wish 

you  to  Avrite  freely  to  tne.  She  kindly  agreed  to  this. 
All  our  correspondence  may  be  quite  secret,  Miss  Macleod ! 
Now,  my  lassie,  cheer  up  I  Be  jolly  !  Work  like  a  brick, 
and  enjoy  yourself  like  a  linnet.  I  am  sure  you  will  come 
on  famously — '  Never  say  die  ! 


i  >> 


Z40  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  I  ho  Pame  :— 

Balmoral,  June  12,  1R65. 

"  I  want  to  Rond  yoii  a  lovini^  word  from  tins,  to  provo 
to  you  how  your  old  dud  remembei'S  you. 

"  I  came  here  Saturday,  and  preached  yesterday,  and 
you  may  be  sure  the  Queen  is  very  good  and  kind,  when 
she  is  so  kind  to  your  old  dad.  But  he  loves  her  very 
much,  and  is  proud  to  serve  her. 

"  I  am  always  glad  to  hear  from  you,  dearest,  and  I 
hope  you  seriously  and  prayerfully  try  and  do  all  I  told 
you  in  my  long  letter.  I  would  sooner  see  you  sick  and 
poor  with  the  love  of  Christ,  than  the  queen  of  the  whole 
world,  for  ever  and  ever,  without  it." 

SHAifDON,  April  18,  1866. 

"  Your  dad  has  come  here  for  rest — that  is,  to  reply 
to  a  ton  of  letters ;  among  others,  to  yours  of  March  3. 
Oh,  I  wish  you  were  here  to  enjoy  the  delicious  air !  No  ! 
for  you  have  got  better  at  Brighton.    To  see  your  mammy? 

No !    for  you  prefer  Miss to  all  your  family.      To 

be  clasped  to  the  hiizzum  of  your  old  dad  ?  No  !  you 
are  too  refined  for  that.  But  to  get  your  dad  his  shppers, 
for  his  unfeeling  family  left  them  behind  in  Glasgow  ! 

"■  This  day  is  lovely — the  sea  is  calm,  and  the  gulls  are 
floating  about  without  coughs  or  colds.  No  flannels  on 
their  throats,  no  nightcaps  on  their  heads,  or  warm  stock- 
ings on  their  feet.  No  gruel  or  warm  bath  before  going 
to  bed.  No  '  Gregory '  in  the  morning.  The  birds  are 
singing  most  correctly,  and  never  were  in  a  boarding- 
school.  The  old  hills  are  as  strong  as  ever,  and  if  they 
are  not  Macleod's  they  INIake  Clouds.  Yesterday  lots  of 
rain  fell  on  them,  and  they  had  no  umbrellas.  But 
though  their  noses  ran  with  water  for  a  while,  they  are  all 
dry  now,  and  no  sneezing.  The  winds  are  kissing  the  sea, 
and  the  sea  only  laughs.  Naughty  sea  and  winds  !  No 
wonder  the  good  steamer  is  indignant,  and  blows  smoke  at 
the  wind,  and  whips  the  sea  with  its  paddles  till  it  foams 
with  rage.  The  lambs  are  playing  about  like  little 
idle   fools,  never   thinking   of  the   coming  days   of   mint 


SOME  CHARACTERISTICS. 


241 


sauce  or  roast  mutton.  They  think  that  the  worhl  was 
made  to  enable  them  to  suck  their  mothers  and  wag  their 
tails.  They  don't  believe  in  butchers,  nor  do  their 
mothers.  The  quiet  is  great,  but  for  Willy.  His  song 
is  louder  than  the  birds.  He  flies  like  the  wind,  kisses 
his  mother  like  the  lambs,  is  as  hearty  as  the  gulls,  and 
patronises  the  cruel  butcher." 


To  tlie  Same  : — 

Ems,  May  1,  1871. 

"My  dearest  old  girl,  I  send  my  parental  blessing  to 
you  on  your  birthday.  That  was  a  joyous  day  to  your 
father   and  mother,  and  every  return  makes  us  more  and 

more   thankful    for   you,   and .      But  I  won't    praise 

you, — what?    but   I   tvill  say  that .       No,   I  won't! 

One  thinnr  is  certain.  What  ?  Guess  !  Well,  then,  of  all 
the   girls  I  ever  knew,  you  are  one  that — what  ?      It  is 

for  you  to  say.      This  only  I  will  say,  that .       But 

there's  no  use!     You  know  what,   my  darling!     So  kiss 

your  father.      As  for ,  poor  body,  the  less  said  about 

her  the  better !  But  this  I  will  say,  she  never  snores — • 
never !  and  she  also — yes,  of  course — loves  the  children, 
but  not — who  ?" 


The  Spirit  of  Eomance  and  Song. 


The  Sea  Serpent  Emigrating. 


VOL.    I 


CHArTEE  XX. 

INDIA. 

DE.  MACLEOD  had  for  several  years  been 
convinced  that  the  Church  ought  to  send  a 
deputation  to  India.  There  were  many  important 
questions  connected  with  missions  in  that  country, 
which,  he  believed,  could  be  decided  only  by  Com- 
missioners, who,  besides  considering  matters  affecting 
particular  localities,  might  take  a  wide  survey  of  the 
condition  of  India  in  reference  to  Christianity.  He 
had  long  anticipated,  too,  the  possibility  of  being 
himself  appointed  to  such  a  duty,  and  was  prepared, 
at  almost  any  personal  risk,  to  undertake  it.  *  I  have 
the  most  distinct  recollection,'  writes  Dr.  Clerk, 
'that  in  the  summer  of  18C5,  speaking  to  me,  as  he 
often  did,  of  the  possibility  of  his  being  asked  to 
go  to  India,  he  told  me  that  medical  friends,  to 
whom  he  had  casually  mentioned  the  matter,  had 
assured  him  it  would  entail  certain  death,  but  that 
he  had  counted  the  cost,  and  that  if  the  Church 
asked  iiim  to  represent  her,  he  would  rather  die  in 
the  discharge  of  his  duty  than  live  in  the  neglect  of 
it.  I  am  convinced  that,  in  the  true  martyr  cpirit, 
he  gave  his  life  for  the  conversion  of  India,  and  that 


INDIA.  243 

the  fniit  will  appear  in  clue  season.  He  ardently 
anticipated  glorious  results  from  a  Christianised 
India — a  youthful  Church  with  the  warmth  of  the 
Eastern  heart  and  the  quickness  of  the  Eastern  mind, 
drawing  its  inspiration,  not  from  the  stereotyped 
forms  of  the  West,  but  directly  from  the  Fountain  of 
Eternal  Life  and  Truth.  Often  did  he  in  the  most 
glowing  language  picture  the  effect  upon  Europe  and 
America  should  light  again  stream  from  the  East  to 
quicken  their  decaying  energies.' 

He  was,  therefore,  not  taken  by  surprise  when  the 
General  Assembly  of  1867,  acting  on  the  unanimous 
request  of  the  Mission  Board  at  Calcutta,  appointed 
him,  along  with  Dr.  Watson  of  Dundee,  to  represent 
the  Church  of  Scotland  in  India. 

Before  he  left  this  country  he  carefully  determined 
the  chief  questions  to  which  his  attention  should  be 
directed.  Ever  since  his  enthusiasm  had  been  kindled 
by  his  intercourse  at  Loudoun  with  the  noble  widow 
of  ex-Governor-General  Lord  Hastings,  he  had  taken 
an  almost  romantic  interest  in  the  policy  of  our 
Eastern  empire;  was  familiar  with  the  details  of 
every  campaign  from  the  days  of  Clive  to  the  Indian 
mutiny ;  and  had  read  nuich  of  the  religious  as  well 
as  civil  history  of  the  natives.  He  had  also  for  years 
taken  an  active  part  in  the  management  of  India 
Missions ;  and  in  order  to  profit  by  as  wide  a  range 
of  experience  as  possible,  he  corresjDonded  with 
persons  in  this  country  well  acquainted  with,  or 
earnestly  interested  in,  these  Missions,  and  obtained 
from  them  various,  and  therefore  valuable  statements 
of  those  difficulties  and  objections  regarding  which 

E  -1 


244  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

inquiry  was  needed.  From  the  topics  suggested  by 
these  and  similar  authorities,  he  and  his  brotlier 
deputy  drew  up,  during  their  outward  voyage,  a 
series  of  queries,  embracing  the  points  wliich  most 
required  investigation. 

They  had  also  peculiar  advantages,  when  in  India, 
for  gaining  the  best  answers  to  their  inquiries.  They 
were  welcomed  as  friends  by  the  representatives  and 
agents  of  every  Church  and  Mission,  from  the  bishops 
of  the  Church  of  England  in  India  down  to  the  poorest 
native  catechist,  and  recei\ed  from  them  all  every 
possible  aid  and  information.  They  enjoyed  the 
frankest  intercourse  with  educated  natives  of  all 
varieties  of  creed  and  of  no  creed,  and  with  the 
conductors  of  the  Press,  religious  and  secular. 
Christian  and  Hindoo.  They  were  honoured  like- 
wise with  the  confidence  of  the  highest  and  best 
informed  Officers  of  State,  in  each  of  the  Presidencies, 
and  were  thus  able  to  gauge  opinion  in  different 
places  and  among  different  ranks  and  types  of  men, 
and  to  form  their  conclusions  from  unusually  com- 
prehensive data.  '  We  had  in  oui*  investigations,' 
he  reports,  '  advantages  similar  to  those  possessed 
by  a  Government  Commission,  which  cites  select 
witnesses  and  visits  select  districts,  and  the  value 
of  whose  conclusions  is  not  to  be  estimated  by  the 
time  spent  in  inquiry,  or  to  be  balanced  against 
those  arrived  at  by  'the  oldest  inhabitant'  of  any 
one  village.' 

In  speaking  of  the  trouble  Dr.  Macleod  took  to 
obtain  trustworthy  information,  not  only  on  the  ques- 
tions bearing  directly  on  his  mission,  but  in  regard  to 


INDIA.  245 

everytlimg  which  came  under  his  notice,  and  the  con- 
sequent accuracy  of  the  conclusions  he  reached  (an 
accuracy  which  has  since  been  recognised  by  some  of 
the  ablest  authorities  on  Indian  affairs),  Dr.  Watson 
thus  describes  the  difficulties  which  had  to  be 
encountered : — 

*'!N"o  one  who  has  not  had  something  to  do  with 
gathering  information  can  imagine  the  difficulty  of 
sifting  the  opinions  and  statements  which  are  made 
by  residents  in  India  on  its  internal  affairs.  If  you 
are  content  to  take  the  first  witness  you  find  as  an 
authority,  and  to  form  your  judgment  according  to 
his  evidence,  you  will  avoid  much  perplexity;  but 
you  will  run  the  risk  of  holding  most  erroneous  and 
one-sided  views.  Dr.  Macleod  used  often  to  express 
his  astonishment  at  the  opposite  and  contradictory 
declarations  made  to  him  by  persons  who  seemed  to 
have  had  the  best  opportunities  of  knowing  what  they 
spoke  about.  Two  men,  or  half-a-dozen  men,  who 
ought  to  have  been  each  in  his  own  line  a  guarantee 
for  correctness,  would  on  some  point  give  as  many 
different  opinions,  formed  on  their  own  personal 
experience. 

"  Each  man  had  lived  in  a  little  world  of  his  own ; 
in  the  presence  of  his  own  countrymen  he  had  been 
a  stranger  to  all  except  his  own  circle.  And,  indeed, 
one  is  surprised  at  the  separateness  and  isolation  of 
European  society  in  the  great  centres  of  the  popula- 
tion ;  for,  if  you  pass  from  one  little  circle  to  another, 
it  is  like  crossing  into  a  new  region  of  mental  life ; 
and  the  instruments  for  gauging  facts,  opinions,  expe- 
riences, and  modes  of  thought  need  to  be  readjusted. 


246  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  follow  implicitly  the  traditions  and  convictions  of 
your  informants  on  almost  any  subject  of  wide  interest, 
you  must  lay  aside  to-day  the  impressions  you  tDok 
up  yesterday ;  to-morrow  you  may  have  cause  to 
return  to  your  earlier  ones,  and  day  by  day  you  may 
have  to  modify  now  one  and  now  another  of  your 
notions,  proved  on  what  you  believed  good  grounds ; 
and  after  all  you  will  retain  your  latest  conviction 
with  caution  and  modesty. 

"  It  was  no  easy  matter,  then,  for  a  man  like  him, 
who  wished  to  probe  everything,  and  to  attain  to  the 
truth,  to  ascertain  correct  data.  At  times  he  grew 
impatient,  and  at  other  times  he  used  to  look  on  the 
matter  on  its  ludicrous  side,  and  illustrate  it  by  a 
story  his  father  had  often  told,  of  an  incident  at  the 
trial  of  some  case  at  which  he  was  present.  The 
witness  in  the  box  was  a  Highlandman  unable  to  speak 
a  word  of  English,  and  he  gave  his  evidence  through 
an  interpreter.  When  a  question  Avas  put  to  the 
witness,  he  would  hesitate  and  say,  '  1  think,  well  I 
daresay,  yes.'  Then  the  interpreter  turns  to  the 
judge  with  this  statement,  'He  says,  "Yes,"  my  lord, 
but  he  seems  not  quite  sure.'  '  Ask  him  again,'  says 
the  judge ;  and  again  the  witness  hesitated,  balanced 
statements,  and  concluded  with  '  I  think,  well  I  dare- 
say, no.'  Whereupon  the  interpreter  announced  the 
reply,  and  shouted,  'He  says,  "No,"  my  lord,' and 
so  the  case  proceeded,  interrupted  every  now  and 
again  by  the  twofold  answer,  *  He  says,  "  Yes,"  my 
lord;  he  says,  "No,"  my  lord,'  until  the  judge  com- 
pletely lost  his  temper. 

*'  It  was  often  tlirough  similar  difficulties  of  contra- 


INDIA.  i\i 

diction  from  the  witness-box,  and  from  different  lips, 
that  Dr.  Macleod  was  obliged  to  draw  his  knowledge 
of  what  were  the  facts  and  opinions  of  Indian  life ; 
and  he  seized  every  chance  of  correcting  his  impres- 
sions by  putting  the  right  questions  to  the  right  men, 
and  by  a  sort  of  instinctive  appreciation  of  the  value 
of  the  replies  he  received  to  his  numerous  and  sifting 
inquiries." 

The  reception  accorded  to  the  deputation  was 
enthusiastic,  and  their  labours  were  constant  and 
onerous.  Crowds,  in  which  natives  were  mingled 
with  English,  assembled  in  the  Churches  in  which 
they  were  to  preach,  or  at  the  meetings  they  were 
to  address.  Every  day,  almost  every  hour,  had  its 
engagements ;  examining  schools,  conferring  with 
missionaries,  and  responding  to  the  attentions  and 
hospitalities  which  were  bestowed  on  them.  To  the 
Indian  habit  of  early  rising  there  was  too  frequently 
added  the  home  custom  of  late  sitting,  with  its  con- 
sequent exhaustion.  '  It  is  certainly  trying,'  he 
writes,  '  for  a  stranger,  who  is  entertained  hospitably 
eATTy  night,  and  who  consequently  retires  late,  to 
have  his  first  sleep  broken  by  the  card  of  some  dis- 
tinguished official  handed  to  him  about  daybreak.' 
This  strain  upon  his  system  told  more  perniciously 
than  he  was  at  the  time  conscious  of.  '•  It  was  very 
difficult,'  Dr.  Watson  saj^s,  '  to  convince  him  that,  for 
a  man  like  him,  labour  in  Scotland,  with  its  cold  and 
bracing  atmosphere,  was  one  thing,  and  labour  in  a 
tropical  climate  was  another  thing.  He  believed  it 
on  the  whole  ;  but  unless  the  belief  was  impressed 
on  his  mind   by  physical  pain  or  inconvenience,  it 


M  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

was  inoperative  ;  and  lie  was  apt  to  forget  tliat  he 
was  in  a  region  wliere  exertion  such  as  he  was  accus- 
tomed to  at  home  woukl  entail  upon  him  consequences 
of  a  serious  kind.  The  only  instance  in  which  he 
seemed  to  distrust  the  climate  of  India  was  in  regard 
to  his  mode  of  living.  He  could  both  enjoy  life  and 
forego  its  enjoyments,  as  few  men  could,  without  a 
sense  of  loss ;  he  could  avail  himself  of  the  most 
boundless  hospitality,  and  he  could  at  the  most  sump- 
tuous table  fare  like  a  hermit ;  and  when,  a  day  or 
two  after  his  hmding  in  Bombay,  he  was  told  by  a 
physician  that?  everything  Avhich  was  safe  for  him  at 
home  was  not  equally  safe  in  India,  he  was  perfectly 
unaffected  by  the  news ;  and,  so  far  as  meat  and 
drink  were  concerned,  he  walked  strictly  by  medical 
rule.  In  all  other  respects  he  forgot  his  belief  in 
the  dangers  of  India :  he  spoke  in  public,  he  talked 
in  private,  he  listened,  he  exerted  body  and  brain  from 
morning  till  night,  he  spent  himself  without  grudg- 
ing and  without  consideration.  On  one  occasion  he 
preached  for  about  an  hour  while  sailing  down  the 
Red  Sea,  and  at  the  close  of  the  service  he  Avas  almost 
dead.  His  face  was  flushed,  his  head  ached,  his  br.iin 
was  confused ;  and  when  he  retired  to  his  cabin  the 
utmost  eflorts  -were  required  to  restore  him.  The 
warning  was  noted  by  hiTU,  and  often  remembered, 
but  it  was  as  often  forgotten  or  neglected  afterwards. 
"  I  shall  not  attemjDt,"  Dr.  AVatson  continues,  '  to 
describe  the  interest  which  Avas  felt  amongst  all  classes 
in  India  in  the  speeches  and  sermons  of  Dr.  Macleod. 
The  visit  of  a  man  of  much  less  note  would  have 
attracted    some   attention,  and  would    have    brought 


INDIA.  249 

together   a   very  large    proportion   of   the    English- 
speaking  population  in  every  city  which  was  visited. 
Moreover,   the  novelty  of  the  visit,  the  first  of  its 
kind   from   Scotland,    was   sufiicient   to   awaken  the 
sympathies  of  Christians,  and  to  excite  the  curiosity, 
if  not   a   deeper   feeling,   amongst  all  the   races  and 
religions  of  India.      His  name  had  gone  before  liiin 
in  every   province.      No   eff'orts   had    been    used    to 
draw   the    notice    of    the   world    to    his   visit ;    the 
ordinary  publication  of  a  list  of  passengers  by  the 
next  steamer,  confirming  a  rumour  that  Dr.  Macleod 
was  on  his  way  to  India,  was  of  itself  enough.     His 
arrival  was  looked   forward  to  with  eagerness,   and, 
soon  after  his  landing,  invitations  and  inquiries  from 
all  parts  of  the  country  were  sent  in.     Wherever  he 
went  he  was  received  with  kindness  and  cordiality ; 
in  many  places  with  that  deep  respect  and  veneration 
which  had  grown  up  in  the  minds  of  those  who  had 
admired  his  works  and  had  heard  of  his  labours,  and 
in   many  places   he  was  welcomed  with  feelings   of 
ardour  rising  to  enthusiasm. 

"  The  foremost  men  in  India  in  civil  and  military 
and  ecclesiastical  posts  were  ready  to  do  him  honour 
and  to  aid  him ;  in  public  and  in  private  they  testified 
for  him  their  personal  respect ;  and  when  they  found 
him  to  be  a  man  whose  eyes  were  observant,  whose 
sympathies  were  quick,  whose  large-heartedness  was 
so  comprehensive  and  whose  humour  was  so  genial 
and  overpowering,  it  seemed  as  if  all  barriers  were 
broken  down,  and  as  if  they  had  known  him  person- 
ally all  their  lives.  He  gained  access  to  persons 
and    soui'ces    of    information    which,    without    any 


150  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

wish  to    disoblige,    would   have   been    shut   to   most 
other  men. 

*' Nothing  indeed  was  lacking  in  the  welcome  which 
greeted  him ;  and  never  did  visitor  appreciate  kind 
ness  more.  But  witliul  he  was  not  misled  by  these 
marks  of  flattery  and  good- feeling.  He  could  distin- 
guish between  the  genuine  and  the  unreal :  he  knew 
well  enough  that  whilst  there  were  many  who  testified 
their  zeal  and  good-will,  many  more  had  the  future  in 
view,  and  were  careful  to  propitiate  an  author  who  was 
likely  to  command  as  wide  a  circle  of  readers  as  any 
WTiter  in  Great  Britain.  And,  apart  from  tliis,  ho  had 
set  his  heart  on  the  special  object  which  carried  him 
to  India ;  and  all  external  attentions,  all  readiness  to 
listen,  all  offers  of  hospitality  or  public  respect,  were 
regarded  by  him  as  helps  to  his  work,  and  as  opening 
up  for  him  a  surer  path  to  that  knowledge  of  Indian 
life  and  Indian  affairs  of  which  he  was  in  search." 


From  his  Journal  : — 

CmLcnEJTffA,  Juhj  24,  1867. 

"  Dear  place,  with  what  genuine  love  and  gratitude  I 
write  its  name  !  I  thought  I  was  too  old  to  love  nature  as 
I  have  done.  What  a  time  I  have  had,  what  glorious 
scenery,  what  fresh  mornings,  and,  oh,  what  evenings  ; 
With  smooth  seas  gleaming  with  the  hues  of  a  dove's 
neck ;  mountains  with  every  shade  which  can  at  such 
times  be  produced  ;  Glencoe  in  sunsliino  and  in  deepest 
crimson;  Glengoar,  with  its  sunbeams  lighting  up  the 
hill  sides  with  softest  dreamy  velvet  hues ;  mountain 
masses  of  one  dark  hue  clearly  defined  against  the  lilue 
sky,  and  fading  into  grey  over  Duart.  What  cloud 
shadows,  and  what  effects  from  pines,  and  cottages  with 
grey  smoke  and  lines  of  silver  along  the  shore,  and  the 
masts  of  ships  at  anchor !     Praise  God  for  this  glorious 


INDIA.  251 

world  'i  the  world  miide  and  adorned  by  Him  who  died 
on  the  cross.  What  a  gospel  of  peace  and  good-will  it 
ever  is  to  me — not  a  prison  but  a  palace — hung  with 
pictures  of  glory,  full  of  works  of  art,  and  all  so  pure  and 
holy.  Every  bunch  of  green  fern,  every  bit  of  burning 
heather,  the  birches,  the  pure  streams,  the  everything,  sa^^s, 
*  I  love  you — love  me — and  rejoice  ! '  Sometimes  I  wept, 
and  sometimes  j^rayed,  and  enjoyed  silent  praise — I  bless 
Thee  for  it ! 

"  And  then  there  was  my  dear  family  all  together,  and  aH 
so  well,  and  the  walks,  the  })ic-nics  to  the  hills,  Glencoe, 
Glengoar,  the  fishing  in  the  evening — all  sunshine — all  hap- 
piness— most  wonderful  for  so  many  and  all  sinners,  in  this 
world  of  sin  and  discipline.  It  is  of  God  our  Father,  and 
a  type  of  what  will  be  for  ever. 

"Forbid  that  this  should  hinder  us  and  not  rather  help 
us  to  do  our  duty,  severe  duty,  and  to  accept  any  trial. 
I  feel  this  is  a  calm  harbour  in  which  I  am  reficting  for  a 
long  voyage." 

To  J.  M.  Ludlow,  Esq. : — 

Jiigvst,  1867. 

"Yes,  I  go  on  the  5th  of  November  on  a  great  mission 
to  India,  not  verily  to  Presbyterians  only,  but  to  see  what 
the  eye  alone  can  see,  and  to  verify  or  test  what  cannot  be 
seen,  but  which  I  either  question  or  believe  anent  missions 
in  general  and  education. 

'  I  have  been  in  paradise  Avith  my  family.  The  heavenly 
district  is  called  in  maps  of  earth,  Lochaber.  But  what 
map  could  give  all  the  glory  in  the  world  without,  and  the 
world  within  ! 

"  It  has  been  a  blessed  preparation  for  labour  night  and 
day.      I  had  a  mission  serinon  of  good- will  to  man." 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

Balmoral,  Friday,  Septemler  lOth,  1867. 

"  It  was  a  glorious  day ;  but  rather  a  weary  journey 
from  Glasgow  yesterday. 

"This  morning's  telegram  announced  the  death  of  Sir 


252  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Frerlerick  Bruce  suddenly  at  Boston.  Lady  Frances 
Baillie,  his  sister,  is  here.  I  have  been  with  her  and 
prayed  with  her.  She  accompanies  me  to  Perth  to-morrow. 
I  feel  very  truly  for  her.  Three  such  brothers,  Lord  P^lgin, 
General  Bruce,  and  Sir  Frederick  dying  so  suddenly  I 
Mystery ! 

"  I  had  a  long  and  pleasant  interview  with  the  Queen. 
"With  my  last  breath  I  will  uphold  the  excellence  and 
nobleness  of  her  character.  It  was  really  grand  to  hear 
her  talk  on  moral  courage,  and  on  living  for  duty." 


From  his  Jourxal  : — 

"August  11,  Glafigow. — I  have  long  been  convinced 
of  the  vast  importance  of  sending  a  deputation  to  India, 
and  my  friends  in  the  Committee  know  it.  I  never  brought 
it  formally  before  the  Committee  from  an  awkward,  silly 
feeling  of  fear  lest  they  should  suppose  it  was  a  mere 
personal  affair.  I  had,  however,  I  believed,  mentioned  to 
friends  in  private  that  so  convinced  was  I  of  its  import- 
ance, that  I  was  disposed  to  hazard  the  olfer  of  my  going 
at  my  own  expense. 

"  How  often  did  I  ponder  over  India  !  It  possessed 
me,  but  I  held  myself  in.  I  determined  not  to  lead  but 
to  follow.    The  Lord  knows  how  often  I  asked  His  counsel 

"  When  the  Sunday  question  came  up,  I  gave  up  all 
thoughts  of  India.  I  felt  then  that  I  was  tabooed.  I 
would,  indeed,  have  resigned  the  Convenership,  except  from 
the  determination  not  to  confess  any  sense  of  wrong  doing 
which  I  did  not  feel.  I  learned  but  the  other  day  that  a 
meeting  was  called  at  the  time  to  get  me  to  resign  ;  the 
vote  was  taken  and  carried  against  them.  I  thank  God 
for  the  noble  freedom  of  tlie  Church,  which  could  not 
only  entertain  the  thought  of  sending  me,  but  act  upon  it 
as  they  have  done. 

"  After  my  report  for  the  last  Assembly  was  finished,  a 
letter  came  from  Calcutta,  from  our  Correspt)nding  Board, 
requesting  the  Convener  to  visit  India. 

"  I  called  a  meetinc:  in  Edinburi?h  of  a  few  friends  in 
the    Committee,   best    lit  ted   to    advise    me.      They    told 


INDIA.  253 

me  I  must  lay  an  official  document  before  the  Com- 
mitlee.  The  meeting  was  called  by  the  Moderator  of 
Assembly,  and  I  Avas  absent.  All  I  said  was  that  this 
Assembly  should  decide  one  way  or  other,  if  I,  a  man 
fifty-six  years  of  age,  was  even  to  consider  the  proposal. 
I  telegraphed  next  day  to  Dr.  Craik  to  print  their 
deliverance,  whatever  it  was,  so  that  the  Assembly  might 
have  it  before  them  in  a  tangible  form.  It  was  printed 
accordingly,  and  I  simply  read  it,  excusing  the  fact  of  its 
not  being  in  the  report,  from  the  request  having  come  so 
late,  and  in  this  form  taking  me  aback.  The  Assembly 
discussed  the  question,  and  were,  strange  to  say,  unanimous 
in  granting  the  request,  if  the  Presbytery  of  Glasgow 
agreed  thereto,  and  if  Funds  were  raised  independent  of 
the  subscriptions  for  the  Mission.  Mr.  Johnstone,  of 
Greenock,  nobly  oftered  to  guarantee  £1,000  if  I  went, 
and  so  this  barrier  was  removed  ! 
"  My  physicians  said  Yes. 

"  My  wife  said  Yes,  if  God  so  wills.  My  aged  and 
blessed  mother  said  Yes. 

"  My  congregation  ?  Well,  I  wrote  dear  James  Camp- 
bell, my  wise,  cautious,  loving,  and  dear  friend  and  elder, 
and  he  read  to  my  Session  a  letter  written  from  Cuilchenna, 
which  told  the  whole  truth,  and  the  Session  said  Yes. 
Could  I  say  No  ?  Could  I  believe  in  God,  as  a  guide, 
and  say  No  ?  It  was  difficult  to  say  Yes.  The  wife  and 
bairns  made  it  difiicult  ;  but  was  I  to  be  a  coward,  and 
every  officer  in  the  army  to  rebuke  me  ?  No  !  I  said 
Yes,  with  a  good  conscience,  a  firm  heart,  after  much 
prayer,  and  I  dared  not  say  No. 

"  No  doubt  all  my  personal  feelings,  the  Mission  ques- 
tion excepted,  would  keep  me  at  home.  I  have  seen  so 
much  of  the  world  that  I  would  not  go  to  India  for  the 
mere  purpose  of  visiting  it  as  a  traveller,  should  I  see  it  in 
a  month  for  nothing  from  the  Himalayas  to  Cape  Comorin. 
I.  would  not  give  a  week  in  Rome,  which  I  have  never 
seen,  for  any  time  in  India,  were  it  close  at  hand. 

"  Apart  from  Missions,  nothing  could  possiV)ly  induce 
me  to  run  risks,  encounter  fatigue,  and  make  such  sacri- 
fices in  my  fifty-sixth  year. 


254  LIFE  OF  NORM  AN  MACLEOD. 

"  I  cannot  as  Convener  lay  my  hand  on  an}^  one 
authuntic  and  reliable  book  or  report,  enabling  me  to  get 
a  clear,  firm,  unhesitating  grasp  of  the  real  state,  dirticulties, 
and  ro([uirements  of  our  Missions. 

"  We  are  at  this  moment  passing  through  a  crisis  in 
our  Mission  history  both  in  India  and  at  home.  There  are 
questions  of  increased  salaries,  according  to  the  circum- 
stances of  each  Mission  station  ;  the  employment  of  home 
native  teachers;  the  employment  —  its  nature,  place, 
pay,  &c.,  of  native  ministers,  with  their  future  relation.ship 
to  the  Board,  the  local  Presbytery,  and  the  Committee  ; 
the  formation  of  Corresponding  Boards,  and  the  clearing 
up  of  constantly  recurring  misunderstandings  with  them  ; 
the  })ersonal  examination  into  the  actual  condition  of  each 
Mission  station,  and  the  encouraging  of  the  missionaries  ; 
the  obtaining  accurate  information  throu!?h  letters  from 
the  Home  Government  to  the  Indian  Government,  and 
from  every  leading  Missionary  Society  labouring  in  India, 
that  so,  by  contidential  communications  with  representative 
men  of  all  parties  and  creeds,  we  may  estimate  the  actual 
state  and  prospects  of  ^lissions  in  India.  Such  is  a  faint 
outline  of  some  of  the  objects  of  a  deputation  as  far  as 
India  is  concerned. 

"  As  to  the  danger,  it  is  nothing,  for  God  is  everywhere. 
As  to  family.  He  can  take  care  of  them  ;  so  can  He  of  the 
dear  congregation.  But  it  seems  to  me,— -and  surely  my 
Father  will  not  let  me  be  in  darkness  ! — to  be  my  duty, 
and  so  I  go,  in  the  name  of  God — Father,  Son,  and  Spirit." 

"August  20. — Dear  Watson  goes  Avith  me.  Thank 
God,  the  way  is  clear. 

"The  one  grand  difficulty  is  the  fact  that  I  have  not 
since  the  Sabbath  controversy  been  much  of  a  pastor. 
God  knows  I  have  not  been  spending  my  time  seltishly. 
Every  hour  has  been  occupied  for  the  public — that  is,  mj' 
small  public — good.  There  has  been  no  idleness.  But  I 
have  not  been  able  amidst  my  work  to  visit,  and  though  I 
condemn  myself  by  the  confession,  yet  I  will  make  it,  that 
a  chief,  yea,  the  chief  ground  of  ministerial  usefulness,  is 
the  personal  attachment  of  the  peo])le,  and  this  is  gained 
most  by  personal  visitation.      It  is  a  righteous  ground.      I 


INDIA.  255 

am  amazed  at  their  patience  and  attachment  to  me  !  My 
only  consolation  is  my  heartfelt  attachment  to  them — if 
they  only  knew  how  great  it  is  ! 

"  Come  life  or  death,  I  believe  that  it  is  God's  will.  I 
ask  no  more.  All  results  are  known  to  Him.  Enough  if 
He  in  mercy  reveals  His  will.  To  suspect  myself  deceivcil 
would  be  to  shatter  all  my  faith  in  God.  Again  I  say  I 
know  not  in  what  form  He  is  to  be  glorified  in  or  by  us. 
All  I  know  is,  that  I  solemnly  believe  God  says,  '  It  is  my 
will  that  you  go.' 

"  But  when  I  think  of  probabilities,  I  would  be  over- 
whelmed unless  I  knew  that  I  was  not  to  be  over- 
anxious about  the  morrow,  or  about  anything,  but  to  rest 
on  God  for  each  day's  guidance,  strength,  and  blessing. 
The  many  I  shall  meet,  the  importance  of  all  that  is  said 
or  done,  the  responsibility  of  personal  influence  emanating 
from  personal  being ;  the  sermons  and  addresses ;  the 
questions  to  be  asked,  and  the  judging  of  the  replies  to 
them  ;  the  patience,  truth,  and  perseverance,  judgment  and 
temper  needed  ;  the  redeeming,  in  short,  of  this  magniiicent 
talent  Avhen  abused.  How  solemn  the  thought  !  And 
then  the  right  use  of  it  when  I  return — the  labour  and 
wisdom  this  implies — the  results  which  depend  on  its  use  ! 
How  affecting  !  And  I  getting  so  old- — little  time  left — 
and  having  so  many  difficulties  from  within  and  Avithout ! 
But  the  good  Master  knows  all — and  He  is  so  good,  so 
patient,  so  considerate,  forbearing,  strengthening,  over- 
ruling !     Amen. 

"  I  have  no  legacy  to  leave  in  the  form  of  wishes.  [ 
leave  God  to  arrange  all.  For  my  family  I  have  but  one 
wish,  that  these  dear  ones — each  a  part  of  my  being — should 
know  God,  and  be  delivered  from  evil.  Rich  or  poor,  Mel] 
or  ill,  my  one  cry  to  God  is,  '  May  they  be  Thine  through 
faith  in  Jesus,  and  obedience  to  Thy  holy  commandments.' 

"  And  God  will  provide  for  my  dear  people.  Oh,  how 
good  they  have  been  to  me  1  " 


2  56  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  James  A.  Campbell,  Esq.  :— 

"  I  think  Young's  view  of  sacrifice  siiporficitil  in  the 
extreme,  and  that  in  his  desire  to  give  i)roininence  to  per- 
sonal righteousness  as  the  grand  end  of  Christ's  work,  in 
which  1  cordially  sympathize,  he  leaves  really  no  room  tor 
pardon  as  an  act  of  mercy.  But  as  I  have  not  his 
work  on  the  suhject  with  me,  and  no  space  for  writing,  I 
won't  indulge  in  criticism.  The  hest  book  out  of  siirht,  I 
thirdc,  on  this  great  question  is  Cami>beirs,  my  very  dear 
friend.  It  has  defects  when  brought  to  the  severe  test  of 
execresis,  but  is  the  best  nevertlieless. 

*'  I  quite  agree  with  Mr. tluit  it  ought  to  be  the  aim 

of  the  lefaslation  of  everv  Church  to  make  its  dogmatic 
basis  square  more  and  \\\wq,  with  the  creed  of  the  Church 
Catholic.  A  Church  is  catholic  onl}^  when  it  is  capable, 
as  far  as  its  creed  is  concerned,  of  embracing  living  Chris- 
tendom, so  that  a  member  or  minister  righteously  deposed 
from  its  communion  should  thereby  be  deposed  as  righte- 
ously from  the  whole  Catholic  Church. 

"  I  think  the  Popish  Church  eminently  sectarian,  and 
the  most  remarkable  union,  or  rather  disunion  of 
*  Catholics  '  I  have  ever  seen  was  in  the  Holy  Sepulchre, 
around  the  symbol  of  the  grand  fact  which  should  unite 
all — Jesus  tbie  Resurrection  and  the  Life. 

"  As  to  the  question  of  the  Sabbath,  it  never  did  nor 
could  excite  my  enthusiasm.  It  is  an  outside  question, 
interesting  theologically  as  involving  the  bigher  question 
of  the  relation  between  the  old  and  new  dispensations, 
Judaism  and  Christianity.  Practically,  we  are  all  one  in 
wishing  and  blessing  God  for  a  day  for  social  worship  ; 
and  for  enjoying,  in  its  rest  from  servile  labour,  a  blessed 
opportunity  for  deepening  our  spiritual  lest  with  Christ  in 
God.  I  protested  against  the  base  superstition  attached  to 
it,  which  in  the  long  run  would,  as  education  and  inde- 
pendent thought  advanced,  but  weaken  its  basis  and  turn 
against  it  those  Avho  wished  most  to  preserve  it.  I  also 
protested,  at  the  risk  of  my  life,  for  more  elbow-room  for 
the  clergy ! 

"  How  strange  and  sudden  has  been  the  revolution,  that 
I,  who  two  years  ago  was  threatened  with  deposition,  and 


INDIA.  2  57 

was  made  an  offscouring  by  so  many,  am  this  year  asked 
by  the  Assembly  to  be  tlieir  representative  in  India  !  God's 
ways  are  verily  not  our  ways  !  " 

From  Professor  Max  Muller  : — 

"  I  hope  your  visit  to  India  will  give  a  new  impetus  to 
the  missionary  work  in  India,  by  showing  how  much  more 
has  really  been  achieved  than  is  commonly  supposed. 
One  cannot  measure  the  success  of  a  missionary  by  the 
number  of  converts  he  has  made,  and  it  does  not  seem  to 
me  likely  that  Christianity  will,  for  some  time  to  come, 
spread  in  India  chietly  by  means  of  direct  conversions. 
Its  influence,  however,  is  felt  everywhere,  and  even  the 
formation  of  new  religious  societies  apparently  hostile  to 
Christianity,  like  to  the  Brahma  Somaj,  is  due  indirectly 
to  the  preaching  and  teaching  of  Christian  missionaries. 
From  what  I  know  of  the  Hindoos  they  seem  to  me  riper 
for  Christianity  than  any  nation  that  ever  accepted  the 
gospel.  It  does  not  follow  that  the  Christianity  of  India 
will  be  the  Christianity  of  England;  but  that  the  new 
relio-ion  of  India  will  embrace  all  the  essential  elements 
of  Christianity  I  have  no  doubt,  and  that  is  surely 
something  worth  fighting  for.  If  people  had  only  to  go 
to  India  and  preach,  and  make  hundreds  and  thousands 
of  converts,  why,  who  would  not  be  a  missionary  then  ? " 


Frmn  Sir  ARTHUR  Helps  : — 

CoinsrciL  Office,  Octoher  3,  1867. 

"  What  on  earth  takes  you  to  India  ?  I  do  not  think  I 
ever  flattered  any  man  in  my  life,  but  I  do  say  of  you,  that 
you  are  the  greatest  and  most  convincing  preacher  I  ever 

heard Now  are  we  not  wicked  enough  here  ?      Is 

there  not  enough  work  for  you  to  do  here,  but  that  you 
must  go  away  from  us  to  India  ?  for  it  appears  that  you 
are  going  to  that  hot  place,  if  I  make  out  your  bad  hand- 
writing rightly. 

"  I  am  really,  without  any  nonsense,  unhappy  at  your 
going.      But  surely  you  are  coming  back  soon." 

VOL.    II.  S 


X58  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  JoruxAL  : — 

"  October  27,  Sunday. — The  last  Sunday  before  I  sail 
has  come,  and  it  is  almost  the  ending  of  the  most  joyous 
and  most  blessed  time  I  have  had  in  all  ray  life. 

"  The  work  during  these  two  months  has  been  heavy. 
I  have  attended  eleven  meetings  of  some  importance,  and 
preached  eight  sermons  for  other  congregations  than  my 
own  ;  have  had  eleven  district  meetings  of  my  people,  at 
each  of  which  I  have  given  a  long  lecture  on  India  ;  had 
tlie  happiness  of  shaking  hands  with  those  who  attended  ; 
have  taught  a  communicants'  class  for  five  nights  ;  have 
examined  each  of  forty  communicants ;  have  given  the 
Communion  at  Mission  Church,  Barony,  and  Parkhead  ; 
have  had  sixty  baptisms  or  so  ;  have  been  at  Balmoral  ; 
preached  at  Dundee  ;  visited  friends  in  Fife,  Edinburgh, 
Helensburgh,  and  Shandon  ;  have  had  two  public  dinners 
given  me  ;  have  visited  with  my  wife  sixty  families,  and 
at  least  twenty  others  by  myself ;  had  India  Mission  and 
other  meetings  ;  and  had  a  delightful  lunch  in  my  house 
of  thirty  of  my  dear  brethren  ;  have  finished  my  sketch  of 
my  father's  life  ;  written  a  month  for  '  Home  Preacher '  (four 
sermons,  and  very  many  prayers),  besides  collects  and 
jjrayers,  which  have  finished  the  whole  ;  have  written 
'  Billy  Buttons  ;'  have  written  *  A  Pastoral,'  and  circular 
for  India  Mission  ;  have  this  week  got  two  licentiates  for 
the  Mission  Church,  &c.,  &c. 

"  In  short,  every  day  till  two,  sometimes  three,  some- 
times four  A.M.,  has  been  so  fully  occupied  that  I  hardly 
know  how  I  have  a  brain  at  all,  for  the  above  is  but  an 
outline  of  work — innumerable  interstices  have  to  be  filled 
up. 

"  But  what  a  time  of  joy  and  thanksgiving  it  has  been. 
Take  this  last  week  as  a  specimen. 

"  Thursday  the  Presbytery  of  Glasgow  gave  me  a  dinner, 
with  Dr.  Jamieson*  in  the  chair.  He  s[)oke  like  a  Chris- 
tian and  a  gentleman,  and  the  whole  thing  was  dignified, 
Christian,  catholic,  and  good. 

*  T):.  Janiicson  h;i(l  led  llio  di'Lato  on  the  Sabhath  question  in  op- 
position to  tlie  viowB  of  L)r.  Mucleod. 


INDIA.  259 

"Tuesday  the  soiree  of  two  hundred  and  fifty  workers 
in  the  conOTeofation. 

"  Wednesday  a  dinner  given  me  by  about  fifty  friends 
— sucli  friends — with  my  good  and  true  friend  WaUer 
Smith  representing  the  Free  Kirk  ;  the  Bishop  of 
Argyll,  a  truly  free  man,  gentleman,  and  Christian,  repre- 
senting the  Episcopal  Church.  Dr.  Robson  represented 
the  U.  P.  Church  :  beloved  John  Macleod  Campbell  (the 
first  public  dinner  he  ever  was  at !)  representing  no  Church. 
There  was  a  troop  of  dear  friends  around  me. 

"  Thursday  was  the  Fast  ;  and  a  prayer-meeting  was 
held  in  the  evening  by  the  Presbytery  as  a  Presbytery, 
that  crammed  the  Barony ;  Dr.  Jamieson  giving  an  admir- 
able address,  and  my  friends  Dr.  Craik  and  Dr.  Charteris 
led  the  devotions.  What  a  glorious  sight  of  godliness 
and  brotherly  love  !  How  truly  I  thank  God  for  this  for 
the  sake  of  the  Presbytery  and  Church  as  well  as  for  my 
own  sake  personally,  and  as  one  of  a  deputation  to  India. 

"  On  Friday,  the  presentation  of  portraits  of  myself,  my 
wife,  and  my  mother,  painted  by  Macnee  ;  and  a  marble 
bust  given  by  400  of  the  working-classes  to  my  wife,  and 
a  cabinet  cominsf.      God  bless  them  ! 

"This  day  I  had  in  the  Barony  some  1,150  communi- 
cants :  in  the  Mission  Church  243  ;  at  Parkhead  85  ;  in  all, 
1,478.  Among  these  were  my  darling  mother,  my  wife, 
John  Campbell,  Mrs.  Macnab,  my  sister  Jane,  aunts — all 
beloved  ones. 

"  I  preached  on  Joy  in  God,  and  giving  of  thanks.  Tt 
was  not  written  ;  no  vestige  of  it  remains.  But  it  was  a 
great  joy  verily,  and  perfect  peace  to  preach  it.  I  never 
had  such  a  day  ! 

"  The  Mission  Church  was  crowded  in  the  evening.  I 
preached  on  '  I  know  in  whom  I  have  believed.'  A  glorious 
text !  Dear  friends,  Mrs.  Lockhart,  the  Crums,  Mrs.  Camp- 
bell, were  there,  and  Peel  Dennistoun  (my  own  son),  who 
joined  in  communion  for  the  first  time  to-day. 

"  Again  I  say  what  a  day  of  joy  ! 

"  And  now  I  retire  to  rest,  praising  and  blessing  God. 
T.  G.  A.     Amen  and  Amen. 

"  SOth. — This  is  my  last  night  at  home.    I  have  finished 

s   2 


2  6o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

my  story  of  '  Billy  Buttons ' — how  I  know  not !  I  harrlly 
recollect  an  idea  of  it.  To-day  visited  sick,  and  baptized, 
&c.  I  have  had  a  happy  party  with  nie :  my  darling 
mother — so  calm  and  nice,  my  aged  aunts,  my  brothers 
and  sisters — my  children !  What  a  blessed  meeting,  finished 
by  prayer.  I  wrote  thirty  letters  last  night,  after  meeting 
of  Session,  from  11  till  4  A.M. 

"  Tliardv  God  I  wrote  with  a  fidl  heart  a  most  cordial 
letter  to  Dr.  Duff,  but  it  grieves  my  soul  to  hear  that 
they  open  the  'Free  Barony'  to-morrow,  the  day  I 
leave,  and  that  Dr.  Duff  opens  it  !  Nine  hearers  only  left 
the  Barony  twent3'-four  years  ago  and  joined  the  Free 
Church  ;  on  the  Sunday  question  not  one,  yet  they  build 
a  Free  Barony  !  Free  !  In  contrast  with  the  old  ?  In 
Doctrine  ?     Discipline  ?      Worship  ?      What  ? 

"  God  sees  all,  and  He  is  better  than  us  all. 

"  I  have  left  everything  in  order.  I  believe  I  shall 
return  safe.  But  oh  !  those  I  leave  behind.  I  joy  in 
God  !  I  know  He  is  with  me,  and  will  guide  me,  and 
make  me,  poor  as  I  am,  advance  His  kingdom.      Amen ! 

"  What  more  can  I  desire  ? 

"  I  bless  God  for  the  manifold  signs  He  has  given  mo 
of  His  goodness.  My  Father,  it  is  all  between  me  and 
Thee. 

"  Father,  I  am  Thy  child  ;  keep  me  as  a  child  !  Amen 
and  Amen." 

"31si  October,  1  A.M. — P.S. — I  must  here  record  the 
pleasing  fact  that  two  engine-drivers  from  the  Caledonian 
Railway  called  here  to-day  to  express  the  wish  of  them- 
selves and  comrades  that  I  would  speak  a  good  word  to 
their  brother  engine-drivers  in  India!  They  were  to 
send  me  the  names  of  their  friends  abroad.  This  is  very 
delightful  and  encouraging." 

Before  lie  left  London  a  farewell  dinner  was  given 
in  his  honour  at  Willis's  Rooms,  at  which  Dean 
Alford  presided,  and  numy  friends,  literary  and 
clerical,  were  present. 

The  effects  of  the  fatigue  he  had  suffered  diu'ing 


INDIA.  251 

tlie  last  few  weeks  told  visibly  on  liis  health.  When 
he  started  for  Paris,  his  limbs  and  feet  were  much 
swollen,  and  continued  so  nearly  all  the  time  he  was 
in  India. 

His  impressions  of  India  have  been  so  fully  narrated 
in  his  '  Peeps  at  the  Far  East  '  that  only  a  few 
extracts  from  his  letters  are  given  here  for  biographical 
piu'poses : — 


To  Mrs.  MACLEOD ; — 

"  We  are  now  running  along  the  coast  of  Sicily.  The 
day  superb,  a  fresh  summer  breeze  blowing  after  us,  and 
every  sail  set,  the  blue  Avaves  curling  their  snowy  heads ; 
the  white  towns  fringing  the  sea,  the  inland  range  of 
mountains  shaded  with  the  high  clouds.  No  sickness  ; 
children  even  laughing.  Nothing  can  be  more  exhilarating. 
I  have  been  very  well,  though  the  limbs  are  as  yet  much 
about  it.  We  have  a  very  pleasant  party  on  board.  Such 
writing,  reading,  chatting,  laughing,  smoking,  knitting, 
walking,  lounging,  eating  and  drinking  on  the  part  of  the 
seventy  passengers  you  never  saw ! 

"  I  am  getting  crammed  all  day  by  a  Parsee,  a  mis- 
sionary, two  editors,  and  a  judge,  and  already  know  more 
than  I  knew  before  starting.  Every  hour  brings  a  new 
acquaintance. 

"  Oh,  that  I  knew  that  you  were  as  I  am  !  and  my 
children.  Had  you  only  this  blue  sky  and  warm  sun,  and 
laughing  sea  !  It  is  the  ideal  of  a  day.  The  sheep,  and 
cocks  and  hens,  and  cow  are  all  happy,  and  the  boatswain 
whistling  like  a  thrush. 

"  Tell  me  always  about  the  congregation." 


To  the  Same  : — 

The  '  Eangoon  '  Steamer, 
\%tli  Noveniber. 

"  Preach  inof   on  board  has  been  a  difficult  task.     The 
pulpit  was  the  capstan,  and  it  was  intensely  ludicrous  to 


26z  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

feel  one's  self  embracing  it  with  all  one's  miglit  as  tlie  ship 
rolled  to  leeward. 

"lied  Sea. — I  preached  yesterday  nearly  an  hour  on 
deck,  but  had  so  to  exert  myself  that  I  was  (juite  exliaustcd. 
Old  Indians  ministered  to  me,  and  poured  iced  water  ovit 
my  head,  and  gave  me  some  to  drink  with  a  little  brandy 
in  it,  which  quite  restored  me.  But  everything  savours  of 
heat.  The  sea  water  is  hot.  The  crew  are  all  Lascars  or 
Chinamen.  Punkas  are  kept  going  in  the  cabin,  or  it 
would  be  intolerable.  But  I  just  thaw  on — laugh  and 
joke,  and  feel  quite  happy. 

"  It  was  so  odd  to-day  to  see  all  the  creAV  mustered — 
about  fifty  blacks  in  their  gay  turbans,  like  a  long  row  of 
tulips,  with  half-a-dozen  Chinamen  with  their  little  eyes, 
broad-brimmed  hats,  and  wide  trousers.  They  are  most 
earnest  at  the  wheel,  and  are  the  steersmen." 

To  the  Same  : — 

On  the  Indian  Ocean. 

"  We  were  immensely  gratified  by  the  ad<lrcss  '■•  which 
was  presented  to  us  by  the  captain  and  officers  and  nil  tl.o 
passengers.  It  took  us  quite  aback — its  spontaneity,  its 
heartiness.  I  send  you  a  copy  as  published  in  the  Times 
of  India.  The  original  I  shall  preserve  as  one  of  the  most 
precious  documents  in  my  possession.  I  told  the  pas- 
sengers that  I  was  pleased  with  it,  were  it  for  no  other 
reason  than  it  Avould  please  my  wife  and  mother,  and  con 
grcgation  and  friends  at  home.  I  preached  to  them  witii 
all  my  heart,  on  holding  fast  their  confidence  in  Christ — 
and  I  felt  the  power  of  the  gospel.  It  required  all  my 
strength  to  speak  for  forty-five  minutes  and  the  thermo- 
meter 85  deg.,  to  about  a  hundred  and  sixty  jjcople,  and  to 
dominate  over  the  engine  and  screw.      But  all  heard  me." 

Letter  from  Dr.  Watsox  to  Mrs.  Macleod  : — 

Ou  board  the  Rangoon,  on  the  Indiiiii  Ocenn. 

Monday,  Novvmhcr  'loth,  18G7. 

"  We  are  here  in  expectation  of  landing  at  Bombay  to- 
morrow, and  all  in  a  bustle  of  preparation.      Tlie  fountains 
*  See  Appoiulix  A. 


INDIA.  zb3 

of  tlie  great  hold  of  the  ship  are  opened,  and  a  score  of 
fellows,  black,  brown,  copper-coloured,  of  all  dark  hues,  from 
soot  to  pepper  and  salt,  are  lifting  the  luggage  on  deck, 
from  one  tier  to  another.  Some  passengers  are  eagerly- 
peeping  down,  to  watch  when  theirs  shall  appear ;  others, 
like  your  husband,  are  busily  arranging  their  cabin,  and 
gathering  together  cufts,  ties,  caps,  coats,  hosen  and  hats, 
that  have  been  tossing  about  for  nearly  a  fortnight.  iS^or- 
raan,  you  must  understand,  has  a  cabin  to  himself,  and 
this  arrangement  has  developed  his  admirable  habits  of 
order.  '  Come  here,'  he  sometimes  said  to  me  as  we  were 
steering  down  the  Red  Sea,  or  in  this  pleasanter  Indian 
Ocean,  '  come  here  and  see  my  draper's  shop,'  and  there  it 
was,  like  a  village  draper's,  wdth  all  manner  of  clothes 
hanging  from  the  roof — here  a  shirt  hung  up  by  a  button- 
hole, there  a  neckerchief  tied  by  the  corner,  bags,  books, 
papers,  forced  into  unwilling  company  and  appearing  un- 
easy in  the  society  into  which  they  had  fallen.  There  is  a 
decent  black  hat  with  its  sides  meeting  like  a  trampled  tin 
pan.  '  Man,'  says  he,  by  way  of  explanation,  '  last  uight 
I  felt  something  very  pleasant  at  my  feet,  I  put  my  feat 
on  it  and  rested  them — I  was  half  asleep.  How  very  kind, 
I  thought,  of  the  stew^ard,  to  put  in  an  extra  air  cushion, 
and  when  I  looked  in  the  morning  it  was  my  hat !'  To-day, 
however,  everything  is  magnified  in  character  a  hundred 
fold.  I  have  just  stepped  into  his  cabin,  and  the  draper's 
shop  is  like  a  dozen  drapers'  shops  ;  a  lumber-room  before 
washing-day ;  a  travelling  merchant's  stall  on  the  morning  of 
a  country  fair  ;  a  pawnbroker's  establishment  in  the  j^rocess 
of  dismantling,  will  give  you  an  idea  of  it.  There  is  not 
an  inch  of  the  floor  or  the  bed  to  be  seen,  all  covered  with 
boxes,  and  the  contents  of  boxes.  You  look  up  to  the 
ceiling  but  there  is  no  ceiling.  Never  did  a  public  wash- 
ing green  show  such  exquisite  variety,  and  for  two  yards 
outside  of  the  cabin  door  are  open  trunks  waiting  like 
jjatient  camels  to  be  loaded  and  filled.  '  Steward,'  I  hear 
him  say,  '  did  you  see  my  red  fez  ? '  '  Is  it  a  blue  one  ?  ' 
is  the  counter  inquir}^  '  No  ! '  roars  Norman,  '  it's  a  red 
one.  If  you  see  it,  bring  it,  and  if  any  fellow  won't  give 
it  up,  bring  the  head  witli  it.'      *  All  right,  sir,'  replies  the 


264  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD, 

obsequious  steward.  '  Any  man,'  I  hear  him  say  again, 
any  man  who  tries  to  open  a  portmanteau  uhen  it  won't 
open,  or  to  shut  it  when  it  won't  shut,  for  half  an  hour, 

and   keeps  his   temper '  the  rest  of  the   sentence  is 

drowned  in  tlie  laughter  of  bystanders.  Poor  man,  it  is  not 
for  want  of  muscle  and  labour  that  these  ill-conditioned 
portmanteaus  misbehave. 

"  We  have  had  a  very  prosperous  voyage,  and  a  very 
happy  one.  Long  talks  of  our  friends  at  home — now  in 
mi'rriment,  and  again  pausing  to  let  the  comers  of  the 
eye  right  themselves — talks  of  what  has  been,  and  tallvS  of 
"what  we  expect  to  see  and  do." 


To  Mrs.  MACLEOD : — 

"  I  was  awakened  at  three  on  Tuesday  morning  by  our 
guns  signalling  for  a  pilot.  Soon  the  whole  vessel  was 
alive  with  excited  passengers,  and  sleep  was  gone.  The 
sun  was  rising  as  I  went  on  deck,  and  never  in  my  life  did 
I  see  anything  more  gorgeous  than  the  golden  clouds,  the 
picturesque  hills,  the  splendid  bay,  and  the  palm-trees 
everywhere. 

"  My  eyes  are  closing  with  sleep. 

"  I  am  writing  all  alone  under  the  verandah  in  Mr. 
Crum's  house.  The  shades  of  evening  are  rapidly  closing, 
'  for  in  one  stride  comes  the  dark,'  and  the  weather  is 
hot,  and  the  crickets  are  chir[)ing,  and  the  musquitoes 
are  buzzing,  and  the  sultry  air  closes  the  eyes.  I  must 
sleep. 

"  The  features  which  struck  me  most  on  landing,  and 
when  drivinc:  five  miles  or  so  to  this,  were  crowds  of 
naked  men  with  thin  lanky  legs,  some  with  huge  ear- 
rings or  huge  red  turbans,  not  a  stitch  on  but  a  cloth 
round  their  loins,  uo-lv  niiserable-lookino^  creatures  ;  but  the 
whole  crowd,  without  the  colour  or  picturesqueness  of 
the  East.  They  look  black,  ugly,  poverty-stricken  wretches  ; 
the  native  huts,  such  as  one  would  expect  to  see  in  the 
poorest  villages  in  Africa :  the  streets  confused  rubbish,  un- 
finished, a  total  absence  of  order  or  anything  imposing, 
huggt-ry-muggery  everywhere     The  one  good  feature,  until 


INDIA.  2(>5 

I  came  to  Malabar  Hill,  where  we  live,  is  the  glorious  masses 
of  cocoa-trees  and  palms,  liere  and  there,  with  houses  or 
huts  nestling  near  them,  and  troops  of  naked  bronze  chil- 
dren running  about. 

"  December  3,  Tuesday. — We  have  had  a  great  St.  An- 
drew's dinner.  Morning  meeting  of  missionaries  of  all  de- 
nominations. Dr.  Wilson  most  kind.  I  preached  on  Sun- 
day. Such  a  crowd.  The  governor,  commander-in-chief, 
and  a  number  of  high-class  natives  were  present.  I  never 
saw  such  a  scene.  Had  a  long  meeting  with  the  Corre- 
sponding Board  yesterday. 

****** 

"  Colgaum. — As  we  left  the  village  to  return  at  8,  the 
scene  was  very  striking.  The  huge  red  moon  was  rising 
over  the  village,  between  us  and  the  sky  was  the  outline  of 
the  temples,  with  banyan  and  other  trees.  Shepherds  were 
driving  in  flocks  of  sheep  and  goats,  while  in  the  centre  of 
the  picture  was  the  group  of  white-robed  Christians, 
pastors,  elders,  and  people,  with  the  missionaries  from  the 
great  Western  world. 

"  The  night  will  soon  pass  ! 

"  At  eight  we  returned  to  the  same  place,  accompanied 

by ,  who,  like  most  Europeans,  knows  nothing  almost 

of  the  American  Mission  or  any  other  ;  and  though  seven- 
teen years  in  the  district,  had  never  visited  or  examined 
into  it,  and  would  have  no  doubt  told  the  people  at  home 
that  they  were  doing  nothing.  He  confessed  his  surprise 
at  what  he  saw.  There  were  thirty  Christians  and  about 
seventy  heathens  present.  Psalms  were  sung  m  Mahratti, 
and  the  tunes  Mahratti  also,  the  precentor  bemg  a  pastor, 
who  accompanied  the  air  on  a  big  guitar,  held  vertically 
like  a  bass  fiddle.  Then  prayer,  then  an  address  on  Trans- 
migration of  Souls.  Then  one  by  a  famous  native  preacher, 
intellectual,  calm,  and  eloquent,  Ramechuna,  on  the  only 
true  rehgion  which,  he  said,  was  in  accordance  with  the 
character  of  God,  the  wants  of  men,  and  was  revealed  in 
Scripture.  Among  other  evidences  he  mentioned  the 
moral  character  of  Christians,  and  appealed  to  the  very 
heathen  to  judge  as  to  the  difference  between  the  native 
Cliristians  and  the  native  heathen.      I  gave  an  address  on 


266  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

both  occasions,  which  was  translated,  and  so  did  A\^'itson. 
Tlicy  gave  an  aiUlress  to  us.  Tlie  ^Moderator  sent  in  his 
own  hand-writing  a  letter  after  me,  which  I  beg  you  to 
coi)y  and  keep  as  gold. 

"  I  never  spent  a  more  delightful  evening  in  my  life  ! 
The  Americans  have  six  hundred  members,  seventy  or 
eighty  teachers,  six  native  pastors,  with  excellent  schools 
for  Christian  children  only.      Preaching  is  their  forte. 

"  ....  It  is  one  of  the  mysteries  in  this  land  to 
hear  natives  teach  Christianity,  who  have  been  possessed 
of  every  argument  in  its  favour,  for  years,  but  are 
as  far  from  accepting  it  as  ever.  Their  difficulties  are 
not  from  immorality,  for  their  Uves  are  equal  to  the 
average  of  most  professing,  though  not  real,  Christians 
at  home.  They  are  happy,  on  the  Avhole,  in  their 
families,  live  all  together,  and  are  fond  of  their  rela- 
tions, and  are  sober,  and,  among  each  other,  tolerably 
truthful  and  honest — and,  on  the  whole,  faithful  servants, 
&c.  Nor  are  their  difficulties  chiefly  intellectual,  though 
the  Christianity  which  they  oppose  is  often  misappre- 
hended— I  fear,  in  some  respects  and  in  some  cases,  mis- 
represented— by  missionaries  with  little  culture.  But  their 
difficulties  are  social ;  they  have  not,  as  yet,  the  deep  con- 
victions and  the  moral  strength  to  give  up  Caste.  This 
would,  in  almost  every  case,  imply  the  breaking  up  of  their 
whole  family  life — parents,  wife,  children,  and  friends  being 
separated  from  them  as  literally  out-casts.  But,  never- 
theless, I  cannot  comprehend  the  want  of  soul,  the  ap[)a- 
rent  want  of  a  capacity  to  be  possessed,  overpowered, 
mastered  by  the  truth.  ]\Iany  will  fly  round  and  round  the 
light,  but  never  see  it.  They  will  give  the  fullest  account 
of  Christianity,  and  say  they  dislielieve  in  all  idolatry,  yet 
every  day  perform  at  home  their  idolatrous  rites — be  almost 
ready  for  ordination,  and  take  a  whim  to  go  as  a  pilgrim 
to  the  holy  cities.    Superstition  and  Fetisch  live  in  them." 

Tu  the  Same  :— 

IjOT^ibay,  Dicemocr  1. 

"  It  seems  an  ago  since  I  h^ft  home.  I  feel  as  if  I 
were  an  old  huliaii,  iind  had  become  familiar  with  hea*.  and 


INDIA.  267 

lieatlienisra.  I  have  very  been  well.  Tlie  swelling  in  my 
(cet  is  as  Lad  as  ever ;  but  I  have  no  pain  of  any  kind. 

"  As  to  our  work  here,  everything  has  succeeded  beyond 
our  most  sanguine  expectation.  We  have  seen  much,  heard 
much,  and,  I  hope,  learned  much.  We  feel  that  we  have 
done  good. 

"  I  communicated  yesterday  with  the  native  congregation 
of  the  Free  Church.      About  eighty  communicants." 

From  a  letter  of  SiR  Alexander  Grant  to  a  friend  at  home : — 

"  I  had  a  select  party  of  educated  natives  to  meet 
Dr.  Macleod.  He  talks  to  them  in  a  large,  conciliatory, 
manly  way,  which  is  a  perfect  model  of  missionary  style. 

1  had  the  most  charming  talks  with  him,  lasting  always  till 

2  A.M.,  and  his  mixture  of  poetry,  thought,  tenderness, 
manly  sense,  and  humour  was  to  me  perfectly  delightful. 
I  had  no  idea  his  soul  was  so  great.  His  testimony  about 
India  will  be  most  valuable,  for  he  has  such  quickness  of 
apprehension  as  well  as  largeness  of  view,  and  has  had 
such  wide  previous  experience  of  all  European  Churches 
and  countries." 

To  Mrs.  Watson  : — 

Bombay,  November  22th,  1867. 

"If  you  are  in  the  least  degree  inclined  to  pity  your 
beloved  absentee,  to  feel  anxious  about  him,  to  imaofine 
anything  Avhatever  wrong  with  him  in  soul,  spirit,  or  body, 
or  in  his  conduct  to  superiors,  inferiors,  or  equals,  I  beg 
to  assure  you  that  all  such  thoughtful,  spouselike  cares 
are  thrown  away.  He  is,  if  anything,  too  much  carried 
away  by  a  sort  of  boyish  enthusiasm  for  palm  groves,  and 
laughs  too  much  at  the  naked  wretches  called  Hindoos 
who  crowd  the  streets.  He  is  also  very  weak  about  his 
beard  ;  it  is  growing  so  rapidly  that  it  threatens  to  conceal 
his  whole  body,  and  to  go  beyond  the  skirts  of  his  gar- 
ments. All  you  can  see  in  his  face  are  a  mouth,  always 
laughing,  and  two  black  eyes,  always  twinkling.  But  for 
my  constant  gravity,  he  would  ruiu  the  deputation  ! 

"  Those  who  don't  know  him,  as  I  do,  are  immensely 
taken  M'ith  him  !" 


268  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  his  MoriiEH  : — 

Maduas,  23rd  December,  1867. 

"  I  have  never  forgotten  this  anniversary  of  the  first  brea^v 
in  our  family.*  It  was  a  terrible  time,  but  has  passed 
away  as  such  long  ago,  its  memory  associated  witli  that  ol 
a  saint  in  heaven,  and  many  spiritual  blessings  to  those 
who  partook  of  the  sorrow,  and  to  myself  especially.  I 
have  fidl  faith  that  all  my  detix  ones  above  sympathize 
Avith  my  work  here." 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

Bangalore,  Lnd  Sunday  o/1867. 

"  I  have  had  a  peaceful  hour  for  devotion  ;  and  who 
but  God  can  interpret  my  thoughts  as  on  this  day  I  recall 
all  the  way  He  has  led  me  during  those  many  years — thirty 
Df  which  have  been  passed  in  the  ministry — all  ending  in 
India,  with  the  greatest  and  noblest  work  ever  given  me  to 
do,  a-doing !  The  Avhole  review,  with  all  its  sin,  its  dark- 
ness, selfishness,  vanity,  the  best  hours  liow  bad  !  and  with 
all  I  have  been,  and  have  done,  and  have  left  undone,  and 
all  I  am,  Avith  all  the  blessed  God  has  been,  and  done,  and 
is,  and  ever  will  be  to  me — all  this  finds  expression  in 
falling  at  the  feet  of  my  Father  in  adoration,  wonder,  and 
praise  ;  seeing  the  glory  of  salvation  by  grace,  of  justifica- 
tion through  faith  in  my  God,  of  the  magnificent  suitable- 
ness to  all  my  wants,  to  all  which  ought  to  be  towards 
God,  in  what  was  done  by  my  Head,  Jesus  Christ,  for  me, 
and  Avhat  He  is  doing,  and  Avill  perfect  in  me.  I  have  had 
great  peace  and  joy  in  pouring  out  my  heart  for  His  grace 
and  guidance  that  our  time  and  talents  may  be  used  for 
Hi3  glory ;  in  confessing  our  sin  as  a  missionary  Church, 
and  praying  that  He  Himself  would  build  up  our  Sion, 
and  bless  us  by  enabling  us  to  take  a  part  worthy  of  a 
Christian  Church  in  advancing  His  kingdom  in  this  grand 
but  degraded  land  ;  in  praying  for  you  and  all  my  darlings 
by  name,  that  they  may  not  be  merely  well  instructed, 
polished  heathen,  but  truly  attached  to  God  in  faith  and 
love,  which  through  the  Spirit  are  in  Christ  Jesus ;  and 

*  His  brotlicr  James's  deutli. 


INDIA.  269 

that  you,  my  own  self,  may  be  strong  in  faith  and  kept  in 
perfect  peace  ;  and  for  my  beloved  people,  that  they  may 
be  ministered  to  by  the  Spirit  this  day  and  every  day- 
May  the  Lord  reward  you  all  — family  and  people — for 
your  love  to  me  and  prayers  for  me !  But  to  my  Mission 
work  1 

"  I  Avrote  to  you  up  to  Friday,  27th.  That  was  a  busy 
day!  Eight  a.m.,  till  ten,  visited  Dr.  Patterson's  medicol 
mission  and  hospital  ;  eleven,  a  meeting  till  one,  with 
about  thirteen  native  pastors  of  all  the  Churches,  in  the 
presence  of  the  European  missionaries.  Rajahgopal  and 
others  spoke  as  well  as  I  could.  We  asked,  and  got,  infor- 
mation showmg  the  great  changes  which  have  taken  place 
in  the  native  mind  in  regard  to  persecuting  converts,  &c. 
At  half-past  five  we  had  a  magnificent  meeting  in  the  great 
Memorial  Hall,  with  the  bishop  in  the  chair.  The  Governor, 
Commander-in-Chief,  present,  and  all  the  tliU  of  Madras. 
I  suggested  the  meeting,  to  tell  on  Madras  and  Home,  and 
to  challenge,  contradiction  on  the  spot  to  the  statements 
which  each  missionary  gave  of  the  history  and  condition 
of  his  mission.  I  spoke,  and  so  did  Watson.  The  Bishop 
is  a  most  Christian  man  :  his  meekness  makes  him  great. 
At  eidit,  conference  in  our  Institution  ;  dinner  at  nine. 
Pretty  hard  day  ! 

"December  31. — The  last  day  of  the  year!  It  is  im- 
possil)le  to  Avrite,  I  am  weary  of  'attentions' — people  at 
breakfast,  people  at  tiffin,  people  at  dinner,  people  calling  ; 
then  meetings,  visiting  of  schools,  &c.,  &c.,  so  that  I  have 
not  one  second  to  myself.  It  is  now  two,  and  not  a 
moment. 

"  We  had  about  twelve  yesterday  here  to  breakfast — • 
Wesleyans — one  of  Avhom  came  out  the  same  year  as  Duff. 
We  talked  till  one.    Many  of  them  did  not  seem  acquainted 

with  any  difficulties.      said,   '  I  go  to  a  village,  sit 

down,  tell  them  they  must  live  after  death,  and  for  ever 
be  in  hell  or  heaven,  and  then  tell  them  how  to  get  out 
of  hell  by  Jesus  Christ.'  Calvinism,  and  Plymouthism,  and 
indifference,  seem  to  divide  the  Europeans.  There  are 
noble  civilians,  and  bad  ones ;  fine,  manly  missionaries,  and 
weak  ones.      We  require  a  broad,  manly,  earnest  Christi- 


7.70  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

anlry,  and  not  formal  ortliodoxy,  ^eak  'Evangelicalism,* 
or  sickly  PlyHioiitliism. 

"  We  drove  tliroiij^di  the  RcAtah,  or  native  town,  -with  it3 
crowded  bazaars.  The  houses  are  low  and  the  bazaars 
poor  ;  yet  many  are  very  rich  in  it.  Saw  silk-weaving  by 
the  native  loom.  Saw  the  best  female  school  I  think  to 
be  found  in  India,  taught  by  two  truly  noble  women — 
so  clever  and  energetic,  such  genuine  ladies — the  blisses 
Anstey.  They  have  money  of  their  own  ;  their  work  is 
one  of  true  love.  What  teaching !  what  influence !  what 
i'ower!  Tlic  senior  class  of  tifty  girls;  the  junior,  with 
two  hundred  or  more.  I  could  not  puzzle  the  senior  class 
on  the  Old  Testament  from  Genesis  to  Samuel,  nor  on  the 
New  in  the  Gosjjcls  and  Acts.  All  are  Canarese  ;  but  my 
questions  were  interpreted.  They  do  not  yet  profess 
Christianity,  but  never  can  these  be  idolaters ;  jjud 
whether  they  marry  Christian  husbands  or  heathen,  they 
must  exercise  a  leavening  influence.  My  heart  and  eyes 
were  full." 

''January  1,  1868,  Bangalore. — This  is  my  first  greet- 
ing for  '08.  Our  plans  are  again  changed,  and  instead  of 
bringing  in  the  year  in  the  railway  we  are  spending  it 
calmly  and  quietly  here.  The  fact  is  I  took  a  disgust 
yesterday  at  travelling  and  work  of  every  kind.  We  had 
intended  to  tour  it  very  hard  till  Saturday,  and  to  go  over 
some  hundreds  of  miles  to  see  eitlier  Seringapatam  or 
Tanjore.  But  because  we  had  rested  and  did  nothing 
yesterday  we  began  to  feel  weary  and  to  realise  how  we 
had  been  kept  up  by  constant  excitement,  and  that  we 
required  perfect  quiet.  So  after  our  things  were  packed 
1  took  a  fit  of  disgust  at  Idolatry,  Missions,  sight  seeing 
and  everything,  and  saw  but  one  })aradise — rest — and  so  we 
return  to  Ma(lras,  Avhere  we  shall  have  little  to  do  till  we 
sail  on  the  9^/i  for  Calcutta.  I  am  glad  we  did  so,  as  wo 
are  enjoying  this  cool,  or  rather  cold  weather  intensely, 
and  doing  nothing. 

•'  We  returned  last  night  at  8,  and  here  I  am  writing 
as  well  and  hearty  as  ever  I  Avas  in  my  life,  actually  en- 
joying the  weatlier,  so  that  I  begged  them  at  breakfast  to 
stop  the  puidcah,  as  it  was  making  me  sneeze.     Ir.  fact,  T 


INDIA.  271 

am  getting  too  fond  of  India.  Take  care  you  get  me  home, 
as  the_y  are  spoiling  me  fast.  Actually  asked  to  a  ball  at 
the  Governor's  ! !  " 

Calcutta,  Jan.  IZrd,  1868. 
"  jMy  only  touch  of  illness  since  I  left  has  been  this 
Aveok.  I  had  my  old  gout,  which  quite  lamed  me  and  com- 
})ello(l  me  to  keep  my  bed  since  Tuesday,  and  so  I  missed  a 
state  dinner  at  Government  House,  at  which  many  were 
invited  to  meet  us.  I  was  all  right  except  the  heel. 
]3ut  you  know  my  love  for  a  day  in  bed.  I  had  twelve 
missionaries  in  conclave  around  me.  Church  Missionary, 
London,  Baptist,  Free  and  Established.  So  I  was  honoured 
while  on  my  throne.  One  old  missionary  was  the  friend 
of  Carey  and  AVard.  While  I  keep  my  leg  uj)  I  am  quite 
well,  and  shall  be  as  usual  to-morrow.  I  never  enjoyed 
better  health  and  spirits  ;  but  must  take  it  more  calmly. 
It  is  not  away !  A  public  dinner  is  to  be  given  us  on 
i'riday  week.  We  leave  for  Gyah  on  the  3rd.  Like  a 
school-boy  I  say,  '  The  month  after  next  I  hope  to  leave 
India  for  home  ! '  " 

Calcutta,  31si  January. 

"  One  line  to  say  we  are  well  and  hearty,  very  hard 
wrought  indeed,  having  had  much  care ;  but  all  things 
going  on  well, 

"  All  parties  strive  to  do  us  honour  from  the  Governor 
and  Bishop  down  to  the  Fakir.      I  have  much  to  say." 

From  the  Friend  of  India,  Jan.  23rrl,  1868  ; — 

"  The  presence  of  Dr.  Macleod  has  cheered  many  a 
Avorkcr  and  helped  to  enlighten  many  a  doubter.  More; 
remarkable  than  his  receptive  powers,  amounting  to  genius, 
which  enables  him  to  appreciate  the  merits  of  abstruse 
political  questions  ;  more  striking  than  his  marvellous 
conversational  gifts ;  more  impressive  than  his  public 
speeches,  have  been  his  sermons.  That  is  the  perfection 
of  art  without  art.  Of  his  three  sermons  in  Calcutta  two 
were  addressed  to  doubters,  being  devoted  to  a  semi-philo- 


»72  J.IFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

sf)plii(>nl  cx^iosition  of  our  Lord's  Divinity  and  Atonement, 
He  spoke  ns  a  man  to  men,  not  as  a  priest  to  beings  of  a 
lower  order  ;  he  reasoned,  as  one  who  had  himself  felt  tht3 
darkness,  avowedly  to  help  those  who  were  still  in  the 
filooni.  Aftectation  seems  as  foreio^n  to  the  character  as  it 
is  to  the  thought  of  this  John  Bright  of  the  pulpit.  The 
lesson  tnught  to  jireachcrs  by  the  crowds  of  high  and  low 
Avho  Hi  rkod  to  hear  him,  was,  as  it  seems  to  us,  that  truth 
and  honesty,  guided  by  faith  and  unconsciousness  of  self, 
and  expressed  in  manly  speech  face  to  face,  will  restore  to 
the  puli)it  a  far  higher  function  than  the  Press  has  taken 
from  it." 


His  work  in  India  reached  its  climax  as  well  as  its 
unexpected  close  in  Calcutta.  The  reception  there 
accorded  to  the  Deputies  was  peculiarly  hearty  ;  but 
the  fati<;ue  and  mental  excitement  produced  by 
speeches,  sermons,  conferences,  and  addresses  were 
excessive  ;  and  when,  to  mark  the  close  of  their  three 
weeks'  labour  in  the  capital,  a  public  dinner  was 
given  to  them — the  first  which  the  Governor- General 
evei"  honoured  with  his  presence  —  Dr.  Macleod  made 
a  speech  which  proved  the  last  he  was  to  deliver 
in  India.  From  Dr.  Watson's  account  of  the  work 
gone  through  on  that  single  day,  it  is  not  wonderful 
that,  at  midnight,  he  found  himself  prostrated  with 
illness. 

"  In  the  morning  he  drove  from  the  suburbs,  where 
he  was  living,  to  a  meeting  in  the  city,  where  he 
spoke  about  half  an  hour.  From  that  he  went  to  the 
General  Assembly's  Institution,  and  took  an  active 
part  in  the  examination  which  was  held  of  the  various 
classes :  this  over,  the  advanced  students  of  the  Free 
Church  Institution  assembled  along  with  the  students 


INDIA.  273 

■who  had  just  been  examined ;  and  in  that  great  hall^ 
Avhich  was  full,  and  which  accommodated  about  a 
thousand  persons,  he  delivered  a  vigorous  and  stirring 
address,  which  lasted  a  full  hour.  When  the  j)ro- 
ceedings  came  to  a  close,  a  large  company  were 
entertained  to  luncli  by  Dr.  Ogilvie  at  his  house,  and 
then,  of  course,  no  one  cared  to  hear  anybody  say  a 
word  except  the  guest  of  the  day.  When  he  reached 
home  that  afternoon,  after  a  drive  of  five  or  six  miles, 
he  was  in  a  state  of  sheer  exhaustion  ;  and  though  he 
was  most  nervous  about  the  evening,  he  tried  to 
snatch  an  hour  of  sleep ;  for  he  wished  to  do  perfect 
justice  to  his  work,  and  he  felt  that  in  one  sense  the 
work  of  his  mission  was  to  terminate  with  the  dinner, 
which  was  arranged  for  eight  o'clock  that  night,  when 
every  phase  of  English  life  in  India  would  be  repre- 
sented from  the  Yiceroy  downivards. 

''He  had  spoken  often  of  his  desire  to  give  expres- 
sion on  this  occasion  to  some  of  his  strong  convictions 
on  the  relation  of  India  to  England,  or  of  English- 
men to  India ;  and  though  he  had  had  an  opportunity 
at  a  large  meeting  previously,  presided  over  by  the 
Bishop  of  Calcutta,  to  speak  on  missionary  affairs,  he 
felt  that  the  last  occasion  when  he  was  to  open  his 
lips  in  public  before  he  left  Bengal,  was  one  which 
necessitated  a  wider  range  of  subject  than  any  eccle- 
siastical topic,  however  interesting  or  important.  His 
reception  in  the  evening  was  most  hearty.  He  rose 
with  a  heavy  sense  of  what  he  was  to  say ;  and,  as 
was  often  the  case  with  him  in  his  most  earnest 
moments,  he  started  with  a  few  unpremeditated 
strokes  of  humour  and  homely  words  which  touched 

VOL.   II.  1 


274  /'//'^  OF  NORMAN  MACLLOD. 

all  hearts,  iind  in  a  minute  or  two  brought  hinisi'lf 
into  rapport  with  the  audience  and  the  audience  with 
liini. 

"  Only  on  one  occasion,  when  he  delivered  his  last 
memorable  speech  in  the  General  Assembly,  a  few 
weeks  before  his  death,  have  I  seen  liim  so  agitated 
and,  to  use  a  common  expression,  'weighted'  as  he  was 
then ;  and  it  was  with  a  deep  sense  of  relief  that, 
towards  midnight,  he  stretched  out  his  feet  and 
smoked  his  cigar  before  going  to  bed,  having  received 
the  assurance,  from  those  he  relied  on,  that  all  his 
anxiety  and  care  in  regard  to  that  last  appearance  in 
public  in  India  had  not  been  thrown  away." 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

Calcutta,  ^itli  February. 

"  On  cOiTiparing  this  date  with  that  on  telegram  you 
will  be  surprised  at  my  being  here,  especially  if  you  have 
read  the  Friend  of  India  and  learn  that  I  have  been 
'  prostrated  by  fatigue '  yoa  will  be  in  delightful  anxiety, 
and  my  mother  will  have  food  for  alarm  until  I  return 
home. 

"Just  after  the  telegram  was  off  I  was  threatened  with 
dysentery.  So  the  doctors  gave  me  forty  grams  of  ipecacu- 
anha in  two  doses  in  a  few  hours.  This  was  on  Wednesday. 
I  at  once  said  Amen,  lay  in  bed,  obeyed  orders,  and  slept  all 
day,  read  newspapers,  &c.,  Avhen  awake,  saw  no  one,  and 
thoroughly  enjoyed  the  blessed  rest.  The  complaint  was 
checked  yesterday,  and  between  the  perfect  rest  and 
medicines  I  feel  gout  all  gone,  and  except  the  weakness 
of  being  in  bed,  nearly  perfectly  well,  very  jolly  and  not 
the  least  dowie,  though  very  thankful  indeed  that  I  am  so 
Avell.  To  show  you  how  sensible  and  good  I  am,  I  have 
allowed  Watson  go  off  alone  to  Gyali,  the  only  really 
rondi  and  rude  drive  on  our  route,  and  I  remain  here 
doing  nothing,  seeing  nobody,  in  the  full  rollicking  enjoy- 
ment of  idleness,  till  Tuesday  or  Wednesday,      I  am  even 


INDIA.  275 

n  )\v  iil)lo  to  join  him,  but  I  take  four  days'  holiday,  tliough 
my  lijt  going  to  Gyah  is  a  terrible  loss  and  self-denial. 
Tills  will  prove  to  you  what  I  always  told  you,  that  I  would 
return  direct  home,  if  necessary,  the  moment  any  doctor 
said  or  believed  I  should  do  so.  Are  you  satisfied  ?  Don't 
you  feel  I  am  telling  you  the  whole  truth  ?  Look  at  me  ! 
Don't  I  look  honest  ? 

"  The  fact  is  the  back  of  the  work  is  broken  !  It  is,  1 
may  say,  done,  and  well  done,  and  all  to  come  is  plain  sail- 
ing, so  that  if  I  did  not  go  to  Sealkote  at  all  (but  only 
went  by  rail  to  Delhi  to  see  sights),  I  should  feel  a  work 
was  already  accomplished  far  beyond  my  most  sanguine 
expectations.  It  was  not  the  work  only,  but  the  excite- 
ment that  put  me  wrong.  I  never  preached  to  such  con- 
gregations. The  admission  was  by  ticket,  and  stairs  and 
lobbies  were  crammed,  and  many  went  away. 

"  The  Mission  Meeting  Avas  a  great  event.  Such  was 
never  before  held  in  Calcutta,  called  by  the  Bishop,  and 
attended  by  all  denominations,  and  such  an  audience  to 
welcome  us. 

"  Then  came  on  Saturday  an  evening  meeting  as  great 
on  City  Missions.  I  was  taken  all  aback.  But  it  was  a  great 
success,  and  they  tell  me  I  have  re-established  an  agency 
which  was  declining.  The  public  dinner  made  me  ashamed 
of  having  so  much  honour  paid  us,  though  it  was  given 
to  us  as  deputies.  The  Viceroy  had  never  gone  to  a  public 
dinner  in  Calcutta,  and  to  see  such  guests  meet  to  do  us 
honour  and  bid  us  farewell !      It  passed  off  splendidly  ! 

"  We  have  had  many  deeply  interesting  private  meetings 
with  missionaries — Zenana  included,  which  I  cannot  dwell 
on  ;  but  one  meeting  I  must  mention.  I  addressed  the  lads 
attending  our  Institution,  and  at  my  request  all  the  lads 
of  the  Free  Church  Institution,  who  understor-d  English, 
came  to  hear  me,  and  all  the  missionaries,  as  well  as  many 
of  the  ladies.  They  have  met  me  with  unbounded  confidence. 
They  are  a  nice  lot  of  fellows.  In  one  word,  God  has 
helped  us,  and  helped  us  in  a  way  that  quite  amazes  and 
overpowers  me.  May  He  give  me  grace  never  to  pervert 
those  great  tokens  of  His  mercy  to  personal  sectarian 
objects. 

T   2 


^^6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  The  Bishop  has  been  very  kind,  and  Sir  John  Law- 
rence lias  acted  like  a  brother  to  ine  ;  in  fact,  uU  Jiave 
contrived  how  to  please  and  oblige  us." 


CaxcitttA,  Saturday,  February  9. 

"  Since  writing  to  you  yesterday,  what  a  change  has  taken 
place  in  all  my  plans !  I  intend  leaving  this  for  home  on 
March  3,  so  that  as  you  are  reading  tliis  I  am  on  the 
ocean  going  home.  Are  3'^ou  not  glad  and  thanlvful  ?  I, 
on  the  whole,  am.  It  happened  thus  :  last  night  Dr. 
Charles  said,  *  if  you  had  asked  me,  I  should  have  forbid 
your  going  to  Sealkote.'  'Hallo  !'  I  said;  'asked  you?' 
'  Take  my  word  I  shall  ask  you,  and  that  most  seriously, 
and  no  mistake.'  So  I  insisted  that  he,  Dr.  Farquhar,  my 
old  friend,  and  Dr.  Fayrer,  Professor  of  Surgery,  should  meet 
here  to-daj'-,  and  give  an  official  opinion.  They  have  done 
so.''^  They  don't  object  to  my  going  along  the  railway  as  far 
as  Delhi,  especially  as  the  climate  is  better  there  than  here, 
but  object  to  dak  travelling, — i.e.  going  in  a  cab  and  two 
horses  as  far  as  from  Glasgow  to  London  and  back  ! — in  my 
present  state;  and  they  object  to  my  being  later  than  the 
first  week  of  March,  as  the  climate  might  from  present 
symptoms  prove  dangerous.  I  feel  thoroughly  well  to-day, 
except  weakish  from  so  much  medicine.  I  am  quite  lame 
.again  in  the  heel ;  but  they  laugh  at  that.  Thank  God 
the  real  work  is  done  and  well  done  !  Had  this  come  on 
one  day  sooner  !  As  it  is,  I  am  full  of  gratitude  for  all 
that  has  been  don a^  -and  bow  my  head  for  what  I  cannot 
accomplish.  Dear  Watson  is  thoroughly  able  to  do  it  as 
well  as  I  am,  and  since  he  is  so  Avell  he  will  enjoy  it  as  I 
Avould  have  done.    Amen !    Verily  God's  plans  are  not  ours." 

After  a  brief  tour  to  Benares,  Allahabad,  Cawn- 
pore,  Lucknow,  Agra,  and  Delhi,  he  sailed  from 
Calcutta  on  the  25th  February.  Owing  to  the  kind- 
ness of  Sir  John  Lawrence,  his  voyage  to  Egypt  was 

*  See  Appendix  B. 


INDIA,  277 

made  peculiarly  happy  and  comfortable.  Lady 
Lawrence  was  returning  to  England  witli  her  daugh- 
ter, and  was  to  sail  as  ftir  as  Suez  in  the  Feroze^  an 
old  man-of-war,  then  used  for  the  service  of  the 
Governor- General,  and  Sir  John,  with  a  friendliness 
which  was  heartily  appreciated,  asked  him,  as  a 
guest,  to  share  the  ease  which  the  roomy  accom- 
modation of  the  yacht  afforded.  The  perfect  rest  and 
comfort  he  thus  enjoyed  proved  most  helpful  to  his 
recovery. 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

"  I  parted  Avith  William  Craik,  whose  kindness,  constant, 
considerate,  unwearying,  was  that  of  a  brother  more  than 
a  friend.  I  cannot  tell  you  all  he  and  his  wife  were  to  me. 
The  Governor-General  came  down  to  the  Feroze  in  his  tug, 
and  talked  with  me  for  ahout  two  hours  in  the  frankest 
manner,  g-ivinsf  me  an  immense  number  of  most  interesting 
facts  about  his  life  and  government  in  the  Punjaub,  the 
mutiny,  Delhi,  &c.  I  was  greatly  touched  by  his  goodness, 
and  I  loved  him  the  more  when  I  saw  him  weeping  as  he 
parted  for  one  year  only  from  his  wife  and  daughter.  I 
cannot  tell  you  what  kindness  I  have  received.  Sir  William 
Muir  came  on  Monday  morning,  to  see  me  ;  and  Sir  K 
Temple  came  the  niglit  before  I  left,  drove  about  with  me, 
dined  at  Craik's  alone  with  us,  all  the  while  giving  me 
volumes  of  information." 

The  only  adventure  which  occurred  on  his  voyasje 
to  Suez  was  a  harmless  shipwreck  some  twenty  miles 
from  port,  caused  by  the  Fcroze  running  on  a  sand- 
bank, and  having  no  worse  consequences  than  the 
delay  of  waiting  till  a  passing  steamer  took  off  the 
passengers.    He  was  met  by  Mrs.  Macleod  at  Alex- 


278  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

andria,  and  they  came  home  by  Malta,  Sicily,  Naples, 
Eoino,  Civita  Ycccliia,  and  Marseilles.  In  si)itc  of 
some  benefit  derived  from  the  voyage,  his  strength 
was  visibly  broken,  and  his  limbs  betrayed  increased 
liability  to  gout,  accompanied  by  ever-recurring 
attacks  of  a^ute  pain,  which  he  called  neuralgia, 
but  which  were  really  due  to  a  more  serious  derange- 
ment of  the  systeui. 


To  Rev.  "Dr.  Watsox  : — 

Fvhrtianj,  1803. 

"  We  got  on  board  the  steamer — an  old,  broad-decked, 
strong-built,  and  high-masted  man-of-war,  with  a  huge 
steam-engine,  and  able  to  go  when  we  started  six  miles  an 
hour.  India  soon  vanished  into  a  few  palm-trees  rising 
out  of  the  water  in  the  horizon  ;  and  as  I  thought  of  all 
we  had  seen  and  done,  and  not  seen  and  left  undone,  it 
appeared  a  strange  dream,  and  I  could  not  say  whether 
shame  and  confusion  of  face  for  my  Avretched  work,  or 
great  thanksgiving  to  God  for  His  tender  mercy,  were 
most  in  my  mind.  Perhaps  both  alternated.  Anyhow,  I 
thanked  God  with  all  my  heart  for  His  having  given  you 
as  ray  companion,  for  all  you  were  to  me,  for  His  giving 
you  the  honour  of  comj^leting  the  work,  and  for  the 
happy,  happy  hours  we  had  together,  unbroken  by  a 
single  shadow  to  darken  our  sunshine. 

"  .  .  .  .  We  have  had  a  summer  sea  every  day  since 
we  left.  Some  days  a  glorious  breeze,  and  all  sail  set ; 
other  days  very  hot.  I  have  never  felt  vigorous  on  board, 
and  fear,  unless  it  is  this  hot  damp  climate,  that  I  am  in 
for  gout  and  sciatica  for  life,  and  that  I  never  shall  be  fit 
for  as  much  work  as  before.  But  wo  shall  see.  I  have 
])raycrs  and  exposition  every  day,  and  find  it  pleasant. 
Sunday  services  as  usual.  Had  a  capital  day  with  tho 
sailors  last  Sunday." 


INDIA.  279 

To  Mrs.  Macleod  :  — 

*'  Sunday,  March  8th. — A  glorious  day,  I  have  preached 
on  the  quarter-deck,  and  at  four  I  met  all  the  sailors  in 
the  forecastle,  and  read  to  them  '  The  Old  Lieutenant '  for 
an  liour  and  twenty  minutes  to  their  great  delight.  The 
sun  is  nearly  set  ;  it  goes  down  like  a  shot  about  six, 
and  no  twilight.  The  sea  is  blue  as  indigo,  and  the  white 
crisp  curling  waves  add  to  its  beauty.  Two  white  birds, 
'  boatswains,'  as  Jack  told  me,  '  with  their  tails  as  marling 
spikes,'  are  floating  in  the  blue,  hundreds  of  miles  from 
land;  thousands  of  flying-fish  skim  the  water  like  swallows, 
each  flying  about  sixty  yards  or  so.  All  the  sailers  are  in 
their  Sunday  best ;  the  Lascars  dressed  in  white  with  red 
caps  on,  squatted  in  a  circle  mending  their  clothes.  The  half- 
naked  coolies  and  firemen  lounging  and  sleeping,  or  eating 
curry  and  rice,  making  it  up  with  their  fingers  into  balls 
and  chucking  it  into  their  mouths.  Old  Pervo,  the  steward, 
dressed  in  pure  white  calico  and  turban,  is  snoring  on  his 
back  on  a  carpet  spread  near  the  funnel ;  and  I  in  my  hot 
cabin  writing  to  those  I  love,  and  wondering  if  I  am  indeed 
to  have  the  joy  of  seeing  them  again,  blessing  God  for  the 
health  and  perfect  peace  He  is  giving  me,  and  in  heart  try 
ing  so  to  adjust  the  difference  of  Longitude  (71°)  as  to 
follow  the  Sunday  services  of  my  beloved  people.  Such 
is  our  Sunday  at  sea  outwardly. 

"  Ceylon. — The  foliage  !  The  glorious  foliage  !  Every 
kind  of  tree,  palm  and  chestnut ;  bread-fruit  tree,  with  its 
large  furrowed  glittering  leaves — with  the  huge  dark 
fruit  hanging  by  strings  from  the  bark ;  the  graceful 
bamboo,  whose  yellow  branches  remind  one  of  old- 
fashioned  beds  and  chairs  or  sticks  ;  the  plantain,  with 
its  large  green  leaves ;  down  to  the  sensitive  plant  which 
creeps  along  the  ditches,  while  beautifully  coloured  flowers 
and  creepers  colour  the  Avoods.  I  missed  the  flocks  of 
paroquets  and  bright-coloured  birds  one  sees  in  North 
Lidia,  but  the  woods  resound  with  the  jungle  fowl,  and 
birds  with  sweet  notes.  Sunrise  from  St.  Nicolas  tower  was 
glorious.  The  sun  rose  like  a  ball  of  fire  out  of  the  sea  to 
the  right,  and  his  horizontal  rays,  shooting  across  the 
island,  separated  the  many  ranges  of  low  hills,  and  brought 


28o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

out  the  higher  hills  to  the  north,  up  to  Adam's  Peak  fifty 
miles  off.  All  those  hills  are  covered  with  forests  of  paltn; 
and  every  splendid  tree.  A  light  mist  lay  between  eacl 
ridge,  and  a  sleepy  radiance  of  wondrous  beauty  over  all. 
The  smoke  of  comfortable  cottages,  which  nestle  in  the 
woods,  rose  here  and  there  in  white  wreaths,  giving  a  sense 
of  comfort  and  of  homo  to  the  sceutx  ' 


CHAPTER  XXI. 

1868. 

HIS  reception  by  the  General  Assembly,  when  he 
first  entered  it  on  his  return  from  India,  deeply 
touched  him ;  the  whole  house  greeted  him  with  an 
enthusiastic  outburst  of  welcome,  which  took  him  by 
surprise.  On  the  afternoon  of  the  same  day  he  de- 
livered, from  a  few  notes,  an  address  occupying  two 
hours,  in  which  he  stated  the  chief  results  arrived 
at  by  the  Deputation.  The  substance  of  this  speech 
was  carefully  prepared  for  the  Press  during  a  period 
of  leisure  enforced  on  him  by  his  medical  adviser, 
and  which  was  spent  in  the  Highlands.* 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  June  tWd,  Cuilchenna. — On  my  fiftj^-seventh  birthday 
(entering  my  fifty-seventh  birthday),  and  at  Cuilchenna 
once  more,  I  am  silent.  This  is  the  first  personal  and 
private  journal  I  have  written  since  my  last  on  the  pre- 
vious page,  the  night  before  I  left  for  India.  What 
months  these  have  been  to  me  !  Is  it  all  a  dream — the 
voyage  out  with  Watson  and  Lang,  and  the  friendly  pas- 
sengers,  Bombay  and  Poonah,  and  Colgaum   and   Karli, 

*  Those  portions  of  his  address  which  touch  on  the  general  ques- 
tion of  missions  are  given  in  the  Appendix  B,  to  which  the  reader  is 
referred  for  the  results  of  his  inquiries  in  India. 


2  82  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

the  vo}'agc  to  Calicut,  Madras,  Bangalore,  Yellore,  Coii- 
jeveram,  Calcutta,  Patua,  Allahabad,  Benares,  Cawnpore, 
Lucknow,  Agra,  Delhi,  the  Fevozel 

"  Then  the  remernhrance  of  that  meeting'  with  mv  wife 
at  Alexandria,  and  the  good  CunlifFes,  and  Cairo  and  its 
Oriental  glories  ;  the  voyage  to  Malta,  and  St.  Paul's  Bay  ; 
then  Sicily,  Syracuse,  Catania,  railway  to  Messina,  boat  to 
Palermo,  and  the  drive  to  Monreale ;  then  the  horrible 
Ciiryhdic  steamer  to  Naples  ;  Naples  and  Madame  Menri- 
coffer,  and  the  Watsons,  and  l)r.  Pincotis,  and  Arnalti  ; 
Puteoli,  Bai*,  and  Rome  !  with  Strahan  and  Signor  Garo- 
falini,  and  all  the  glories.  Home  by  Civita  Yecehia,  Mar- 
seilles, Paris.  God  be  praised — God  be  praised  1  What 
a  time  of  joy  and  blessing ! 

"  That  night  I  returned  was  indescribable — so  unreal, 
and  yet  so  real.  Never  was  there  to  me  so  dreamlike  a 
thing  as  when  dear  friends,  deacons,  elders,  and  members 
of  my  church  and  working  people  met  me  at  the  railway, 
and  shook  me  by  the  hand.  Spectres  could  not  have  been 
more  unreal.  It  seemed  as  if  it  could  not  be  they,  and 
that  I  was  not  myself,  and  home  again.  India  seemed  to 
follow  me  up  till  that  moment,  and  Scotland  did  not  seem 
real.  The  present  was  not  as  the  past ;  and  then  the  ever 
memorable  su[)per  in  m}^  own  house,  with  my  mother  and 
aunts,  and  sisters  and  brothers,  and  ciiildren.  What !  was 
I  at  home  ?  Was  I  alive  ?  Had  I  returned  ?  Perhaps  the 
fet^lincif  of  never  returning-  to  which  I  cliincf,  somehow,  as 
necessary  for  my  peace,  made  the  return  the  more  strange 
and  incomprehensible.  I  cannot  describe  the  feeling.  It 
was  not  excitement,  but  calm,  dumb,  dream-like  wonder  ! 

"  And  here  I  am,  with  a  full  moon  shining  over  Glencoe, 
and  all  as  still  as  the  desert — health  restored,  and  all 
spared  ! 

"  Oh  my  dear  Father !  how  I  thank  and  bless  Thee, 
and  record  Thy  goodness.  But  it  is  the  old  story  of 
Love  !     T.  G.  A. 

"  I  wish  also  to  record  the  marvellous  manner  in  which 
my  people  behaved  in  my  absence.  Everything  went  on 
better  than  before!  Few  things  have  helped  more  to  bring 
about  an  answer  to  many  a  prayer,  that  I  might  be  cnal)led 


iHb8. 


283 


to  love  my  people  with  something  of  that  yearning,  motherly 
feelin,2",  as  if  to  one's  own  children,  which  St.  Paul  had  in 
such  glorious  perfection.  I  feel  this  strengthening  of  the 
chords  between  us  as  a  great  gift  from  God.  Our  separation 
has  done  us  both  oood!" 


To  Miss  Scott  Moa^ciieiff  : — 

"  ]Many,  many  thanks  for  your  chit  (I  have  lost  my 
native  language).  I  have  so  much  to  say  to  you  and  to 
your  Indian  staff",  that  I  must  be  silent  till  we  meet.  I 
have  verily  had  a  memorable  time  of  it.  God  has  blessed 
us  and  our  Avork.  I  have  been  wounded  in  the  grand 
campaign,  and  the  doctors  say  that  I  must  go  to  hospital 
for  months  to  corae,  and  that,  to  prevent  evil,  I  must 
be  idle,  as  my  bram  cannot,  stand  constant,  demands  on 
it.  At  fifty-seven  I  am  not  what  I  was,  but  I  may  do 
Avork  yet  if  I  get  rest.  It  was  wild  work  in  India !  Do 
yoti  remember  the  Sunday  controversy,  and  how  I  was  an 
outcast  from  all  good  society  ?  Fancy  me  last  night, 
cliairman  by  reqtiest  at  a  Free  Kirk  missionary  meeting-, 
in  a  I'reo  Kirk,  with  a  Free  lurk  lecturer,  and  only  Free 
Kirk  mlnisucrs  aronrul  me.  and  receiving  Free  Kii'k 
thanks  !  I  may  live  to  ne  a  r'ree  Kirk  Moderator  tul 
the  next  time  I  am  caiieu  10  sLund  aione,  and  then. — woe's 
me!" 


To  A.  Strahan,  Esq.  : — . 

"  Ideny  the  canon  of 
criticism  by  which  reli- 
gious novels  are  con- 
demned. It  would  ex- 
clude even  Christ's 
teaching  by  parables, 
and  would  for  ever  pre- 
clude me  or  any  minis- 
ter from  writing  stories. 
'  I  Stan'  on  the  head  o' 
my  fish  an'  wull  main- 
tain tlie  flukes  are  fresh  ^°  ^''""^  ^"^  "'  matter. 
and  gude,'  as  a  Nevvduiven  fish-wife  said  to  mo." 


iSi  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  liis  Mother,  on  hia  Birthday  :— 

June  Srd. 
"  I  am  quite  safe  in  saying  that  I  have  written  to  you, 
say  forty  letters,  on  my  birtliday  ;  and  wliatever  was  defec- 
tive as  to  number  in  my  letters  was  made  up  by  your 
love.  Now  I  begin  to  think  the  whole  affair  is  getting 
stale  to  you.  In  short,  you  anticipate  all  I  can  say, 
am  likely  to  say,  or  ouglit  to  say  ;  and  having  done 
so,  you  bi.'gin  to  read  and  to  laugh  and  cry  time  about, 
and  to  praise  me  to  all  my  unfortunate  brothers  and 
sisters,  until  they  detest  me  till  June  4th.  Don't  you 
feel  grateful  I  was  born  ?  Are  you  not  thankful  ?  I 
know  you  are,  and  no  wonder.  I  need  not  enumerate  all 
those  well-known  personal  and  domestic  virtues  which 
have  often  called  forth  your  praises,  except  when  you  are 
beaten  at  backgammon.  But  there  is  another  side  of  the 
question  with  which  I  have  to  do,  and  that  is,  whether  I 
ought  to  be  so  very  grateful  to  you  for  the  event  with 
which  June  3rd,  1812,  is  associated.  As  I  advance  in 
life,  this  question  becomes  more  interesting  to  me  ;  and 
it  seems  due  to  the  interests  of  truth  and  justice  to  state 
on  this  day,  when  I  have  had  fifty-six  years'  experience 
of  life  in  its  most  varied  forms,  that  I  am  by  no  means 
satisfied  with  your  conduct  on  that  occasion,  and  that  if 
you  fairly  consider  it,  I  feel  assured  ^''ou  will  justify  me 
in  demanding  from  you  the  only  reparation  possible — an 
ample  a})ol()gy,  and  a  solemn  promise  never  to  do  the  like 
again !  You  must  acknowledge  that  you  took  a  very  great 
liberty  with  a  man  of  my  character  and  position,  not  to 
ask  me  whether  I  was  disposed  to  enter  upon  a  new  and 
imi)ortant  state  of  existence  ;  whether  I  should  prefer 
winter  or  summer  to  begin  the  trial  ;  or  whether  I  should 
be  a  Scotchman,  Irishman,  or  Englishman  ;  or  even 
whether  I  should  be  'man  or  woman  born;'  each  of 
these  alternatives  involving  to  me  most  important  con- 
sequences. What  a  good  John  Bull  I  Avould  have 
made  !  what  a  rattling,  roaring  Irishman  !  what  a  capital 
motlier  or  wife  !  what  a  jolly  abbess  !  But  you  doomed 
me  to  be  born  in  a  tenth-rate  provincial  town,  half 
Scotfli,  half  Highland,  and  sealed  my  doom  as  to  sex  and 


iSo8. 


28s 


coimtiy.  Was  that  fair  ?  Would  _you  like  me  to  have 
done  that  to  3^011  ?  Suppose  through  my  fault  you  had 
L)eeu  born  a  wild  Spanish  papist,  what  would  you  have  said 
on  your  fifty-seventh  birthday,  with  all  your  Protestant  con- 
victions ?  Not  one  ^laxwell  or  Duntroon  related  to  you ! 
you  yourself  a  nun  called  St.  Agnese  ! — and  all,  forsooth, 
because  I  had  willed  that  you  should  be  born  at  Toledo 
on  June  8rd,  1812  !  Think  of  it,  mother,  seriously,  and 
say,  have  you  done  to  me  as  you  would  have  had  me  do 
to  you  ? 

"  Then  ngain,  pray  who  is  to  blame  for  all  I  have  suf- 
fered for  fifty-six  years  ?  Who  but  you  ?  This  reply  alone 
can  be  made  to  a  thousand  questions  which  press  them- 
selves on  my  memory,  until  the  past  seems  a  history  of 
misery  endured  with  angelic  patience.  Why,  I  might  ask, 
for  example,  did  I  live  for  weeks  on  insipid  '  lythings,' 
spending  days  and  nights  screaming,  wee2:)ing,  hiccoughing, 
with  an  old  woman  swathing  and  unswathing  me,  Avliose 
nature  retires  from  such  attentions  ?  Why  had  I  for  years 
to  learn  to  walk  and  speak,  and  amuse 
aunts  and  friends  like  a  young  parish  y/^]"^  ^' 
fool,  and  wear  frocks — fancy  me  in  a  /  Ni»3^ 
frock  now,  addressing  the  Assembly  ! 
and  yet  I  had  to  wear  them  for  years  !  Why  have  I 
suffered  from  mumps,  hooping-cough,  measles,  scarlet  fever, 
toothache,  headache,  lumbasfo,  ofout,  sciatica,  sore  back, 
sore  legs,  sore  sides,  and  other  ailments  ;  having  probably 
sneezed  several  thousand  times,  and  coughed  as  often  since 
christened  ?  Why  ?  Because  I  was  born  !  because  you, 
and  none  but  you,  insisted  I  should  be 
born  !  Why  have  I  had  to  be  tossed 
about  on  every  sea  and  ocean,  and 
kept  in  j)erpetual  danger  from  icebergs, 
fogs,  storms,  shipwrecks  ?  You  did  it ! 
Why  have  I  had  my  mind  distracted, 
my  brain  worn,  my  heart  broken,  my 
nerves  torn,  my  frame  exhausted,  my  life 
tortured  with  preachings  and  prepara- 
tions, speeches,  lectures,  motions,  resolu- 
tions, programmes ;  with  sessions,  presbyteries,  and  assem- 


IJFE  OF  NORM  AX  ^fACLEOD. 


bLVs  ;  with  all  Cliurches,  hond  and  free  ;  with  all  counlrios 
from  wesit  to  east,  with  good  words  and  bad  words;  with 
Sunday  questions  and  week-day  questions  ;  with  all  s-orts  of 
people,  from  Trembling  Jock  to  the  Queen  ;  with  friends 
and  relations,  Jews  and  Greeks,  bond  and  free  ?  Why  all 
this,  and  a  thousand  times  more,  if  not  simply  and  solely 
because,  forsooth,  of  your  conduct  on  June  3rd,  1812  ? 
No  wonder  it  is  a  solemn  and  sad  day  to  you  !  No  wonder 
you  sigh,  and — unless  all  good  is  out  of  you — weep,  too. 
I  was  told  my  poor  father,  on  the  day  I  was  born,  liid 
himself  in  a  hayrick  from  sheer  anxiety.  He  had  some  idea 
of  what  was  doing.  But,  dear  soul  !  he  always  gave  in  to 
you,  and  it  was  in  vain  for  either  of  us  to  speak.  I  am 
told  I  yelled  very  loud — I  hope  I  did — I  could  do  no 
more  then  ;  and  I  can  do  little  more  now  than  protest,  as 
I  do,  against  the  whole  arrangement. 

"  An  American  expressed  to  a  friend  of  mine  a  gTPnt 
desire  to  visit  Siam,  as  he  understood  its  people  Avore  all 
twins  !  The  thought  makes  me  tremble.  What  if  I  had 
been  born  like  the  Siamese  twins  !  Think  of  my  twin 
brother  and  myself  going  as  a  deputy  to  India :  in  the 
same  berth,  speaking  together  at  the  same  meeting,  side 
together  at  sea,  or  both  suffering  from  gout,  and  you 
concerned  and  anxious  about  your  poor  dear  boys  !    What, 

supjjosing   my   twm   had   married 

:\lrs.  ? 

"  Mother  dear,  repent  ! 
"One  good  quality  remains  :  I 
can  forixive,  and  I  do  forgive  vou 
this  day,  in  pledge  of  which  I 
send  you  my  love,  big  as  my  body, 
yea  without  limit,  as  large  a  kiss 
as  my  beard  and  moustache  will 
permit. 

"  This  is  a  glorious  Highland 
(lay  !  What  delicious  air !  It 
blows  and  rains,  and  is  as  bitterly 
cold  as  tlic  most  ardent  Celt  could 
desire. 
"  The  amusing  prattle  of  eight  children   in   the  house, 


i868.  287 

craving-  for  excitelnent,  witli  nothing  to  do,  is  truly  sooth- 
ing, and  actp  as  bahn  to  my  nervous  system.  The  sail 
yesterday  was  charming,  and  the  canal  boat  with  a  crammed 
cabin  and  heavy  rain,  was  too  delightful  for  a  gouty 
world. 

"  Glencoe,  if  you  could  see  it  through  this  thick  rain,  is 
grand,  and  the  rattling  of  the  Avindows  from  the  wind  quite 
musical.  I  am  trying  to  cure  my  gout  by  walking  in  wet 
grass,  so  keep  your  mind  easy  *  " 

To  A.  Steahan,  Esq.  : — 

Friday. 

"  I  send,   for  j^ourself   only,    the   enclosed    hints  from 

.      Now  you  know    the    real  iove    that    he    has    to 

us  personally,  and  to  G.  W.  I  therefore  value  such 
hints,  though  I  confess  that  I  do  not  know  to  what  he 
alludes.  But  to  guard  against  the  possibility  of  a  single 
expression  being  printed  by  us  which  the  weakest  Chris- 
tian could  be  pained  by,  I  beseech  you  to  let  me  see  every 
MS.  or  proof  before  being  printed  off.  1,  as  a  minister, 
am  more  conversant  than  you  can  be  with  religious  topics 
and  the  pulse  of  the  religious  world.  Besides,  as  you  also 
know,  my  chief  delight  in  Good  Words  is  its  power  of 
doing  good.  God  knows  this  is  more  precious  to  me  than 
all  the  gold  and  silver  on  earth  could  be." 

To  Miss  Scott  Monceeiff  : — 

"  The  past  and  the  future  seem  to  me  to  become  every 
day  more  vivid,  while  the  more  immediate  point  is  more 
confused  and  vanishing.  The  old  home  in  Dalkeith  Park 
is  never  empty,  but  always  full  to  me  with  people  who  are 
always  happy,  and  can  never  die.  So  are  other  houses  of 
my  friends.  Thank  God  for  memory  and  for  hope  !  When 
these  earthly  houses  are  discovered  by  us  at  last  to  be 
empty,  and  all  our  thoughts  about  them  dreams,  then  at 
the  same  moment  we  shall  also  discover  that  another  home 
is  inhabited  by  the  same  dear  friends,  and  that  our  dreams 
cease  only  when  we  have  awoke  to  and  met  with  realities. 
My  dear  Norman  has  left  us  this  morning  to  begin  com- 


2 8 S  LIFE  OF  NORMA N  MA CL EOD. 

merciiil  life  in  Liverpool.  He,  and  t\?'o  of  his  sisters, 
joined  us  on  Tuesday  at  our  winter  communion,  but  as  I 
entered  his  bed-room  after  lie  was  gone  it  was  very  dream- 
like— 'In  deaths  oft.'" 

From  his  JoTmxAL  : — 

"Sunday,  July  19. — "\Aniat  are  called  innocent  enjoy- 
ments, with  much  which  makes  up  and  adds  to  the  happi- 
ness of  life — poetr}'-,  painting,  smiles,  and  laughter,  the 
sallies  of  playful  wit,  or  the  quiet  chuckle,  the  delightful 
emotions — half  smiles,  half  tears, — created  by  humour,  tlie 
family  fun  in  summer  evenings  in  the  open  air — all  that 
kind  of  life  which  we  enjoy  and  remember  with  such  enjoy- 
ment (albeit  mingled  with  sadness,  not  for  what  it  was,  but 
because  it  is  not) — why  is  this  not  associated  in  our  minds 
with  saintship  and  holiness  ?  Is  it  because  those  who  are 
not  holy  possess  it  all  ?  Yet  this  would  only  prove  the  libe- 
rality of  God,  and  not  the  sinfulness  of  man — or  any  incon- 
sistency in  saints  partaking  of  it.  Is  it  that  such  happiness 
is  sin?  This  cannot  be.  It  would  bo  a  libel  on  all  our  instincts 
and  feelings  and  the  whole  round  of  life  as  appointed  by 
God.  Is  it  that  we  have  formed  wrong  ideas  of  saintship, 
and  created,  as  in  medioeval  art,  such  notions  as  would  make 
Baintship  impossible,  or  utterly  outre  and  grotesque  in  the 
Exchanofe,  or  behind  the  counter,  or  on  a  Railwav  Board, 
or  committee  of  Parliament  ?  Yet  it  is  in  such  places  we 
need  saints  most.  Or  is  it  that  we  make  such  men  as  the 
apostles  examples  of  Avhat  all  men  should  be,  and  thence 
conclude  that  if  so,  the  life  I  have  aUuded  to  must  be 
wrong,  earthly,  and  unworthy  of  men,  as  it  could  not  be 
theirs?  But,  again,  I  look  at  the  flowers  Christ  has  made, 
and  listen  to  His  singing  birds,  whose  bills,  and  throats,  and 
instincts  He  has  made,  and  con  over  all  the  gay  and  beauti- 
ful '  trifles '  He  has  attended  to  as  the  Maker  of  the 
world,  and  which  He  called  very  good,  and  in  which  He 
has  pleasure,  and  so  the  '  methodistical '  view  of  life  does 
not  hold.  But  may  not  a  life  in  harmony  with  this,  in 
which  the  small  flowers,  and  the  small  singing  birds,  and 
the  perfumes,  and  the  lights  and   shadows   and  sparkling 


i868.  289 

waves,  shall  hold  their  own  with  the  great  mountains  and 
mighty  oceans,  and  intellectual  and  moral  harmonies  among 
God's  great  beings,  be  the  normal  state  of  things,  and  be 
reproduced  in  the  new  heavens  and  the  new  earth  ?  The 
sorrows  and  sadness  of  Christ  and  of  men  like  St.  Paul  would 
thus  be  abnormal,  conditioned  by  the  evil  of  sin.  They 
would  be  as  the  sadness  of  a  family  because  of  a  death 
and  burial,  but  which  was  not  their  natural  condition.  The 
world's  greatest  men,  in  God's  sense,  God's  own  elect  ones, 
the  kings  and  princes  of  humanity,  are  thus  necessarily 
the  greatest  suiierers.  It  is  given  them  to  '  suffer  with 
Christ'  as  the  highest  honour,  for  it  is  the  honour  and 
glory  of  seeing  things  as  they  are  in  the  true  and  eternal 
light  which  no  mere  man  can  see  and  live.  But  such 
men  must  die  and  be  buried  in  the  grave  of  sorrow, 
crucified  by  the  world's  sin. 

"  Yet  let  this  occasion  of  sorrow  be  taken  away,  and  why 
might  not  a  St.  Paul  be  a  child  again,  and  chase  butterflies, 
gather  flowers,  and  shout  Avith  joy  among  the  heather?  It 
is  a  great  gift  to  be  able  to  be  happy  at  all,  and  see,  how- 
ever dimly,  into  life  and  death.  Those  who  imitate  these 
holy  men  only  in  their  sadness  and  sorrow,  practise  a  vain 
guise,  like  a  mask,  and  fancy  the  signs  of  grief  or  grief 
itself  to  be  a  virtue,  and  not  a  misfortune,  and  glorious 
only  as  a  sign  of  an  inner  love — the  light  which  casts 
the  sliadow.  Those  who  seek  happiness  for  its  own  sake 
and  call  it  innocent,  and  think  it  lawful  Avitliout  the 
eternal  good,  are  vain  as  larks  who  would  live  only  for 
singing,  and  silly  as  flowers  who  see  nothing  in  creation 
but  their  own  colours,  and  perceive  nothing  but  their  own 
perfume. 

"  A  mountain  once  rebuked  a  rivulet  for  always  foaming 
and  making  a  noise.  The  rivulet  replied  that  the  ocean 
often  did  the  same.  '  Yes,'  said  the  mountain,  '  but  the 
ocean  has  its  depths  and  calms  :  you  have  neither.'  " 


VOL.    II. 


290  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


*'  SUBJECTS    FOR    SONNETS    SUGGESTED    IN    MY    WALK. 

"  Cailchenna,  July  21. — The  scenes  of  peace  and  beauty 
in  Nature,  resulting  from  the  great  cataclysms  of  the  ])ast ; 
paralleled  by  the  peace  in  the  •  world'  and  in  the  soul 
from  the  anguish  of  suflbring. 

2. 

"The  force  of  gravitation  overcoming  the  storm  and 
waves  in  carrying  tiny  bubV)les  out  into  the  ebb  tide  ; 
paralleled  by  the  power  of  faith  in  the  unseen,  in  those 
otherwise  Aveak,  as  a  power  striving  against  and  con- 
quering apparently  irresistible  opposition. 

3. 

"  The  light,  reflected  by  clouds,  climbing  a  mountain  side, 
illustrative  of  a  pure  mind  rising  over  mighty  heights  of 
thought,  and  revealing  their  beauties." 


*•  I  see  a  field,  one  half  is  tilled 

And  may  give  something  to  the  baker ; 
With  weeds  the  other  half  is  filled. 
Not  worth  a  halfpenny  per  acre, 

**  I  won't  admit  that  field  is  good 

Because  some  good  things  grow  within  it- 
I  say  'tis  bad  for  human  food, 

And  getting  wcse,  too,  every  minute. 

•'  The  owner  of  it  is  so  lazy, 

Yet  most  contented  and  pretentious, 
His  sense  of  duty  very  hazy, 
And  yet  so  very  conscientious. 

*'  He  says  '  he  likes  '  one  half  to  till. 

Ho  '  likes  '  what  gives  him  little  trouble. 
He  likes  to  follow  his  owr  will, 

Ho  likes  in  short  to  quuk  and  quibble, 

*•  And  now  as  I  have  told  mj'  mind 

About  one-sided  plovigh  and  harrow. 
The  lesson  is, — I  never  find 

Men  very  good  and  very  narrow. 


i868.  a9» 


•  One  half  their  lazy  minds  they  till, 
The  other  half  is  always  weedy  ; 
They  worship  idols   do  their  will, 
Are  often  wicked — always  se.dy  I 


To  the  Eev.  Dr.  Watson  :— 

CUILCHENNA. 

"  It  is  very  difficult  for  me  to  write  at  present,  as  a 
nervous  lieadache  sets  in  always  in  half  an  hour,  so  that 
it  is  imi)ossible  to  write.  It  goes  off  ten  minutes  after 
I  stop,  so  that  I  can  get  on  by  fits  and  starts  only. 

"  You  must  come  soon  again.  I  am  wearying  to  have 
a  talk  in  Sanscrit. 

'"He  who  talketh  Sanscrit  talketh  like  a  man,  but  he 
who  talketh  never  (like  me)  is  dumb.' — Hindoo  Proverb. 

"  '  He  who  is  choked  can  never  be  hanged.' — Hindoo 

Proverb. 

"  '  Heartburnings  cause  sourness,  and  sourness  is  never 

sweet.' — A  Scotticism. 

"  My  head  gets  so  sore  when  I  try  to  write." 

To  the  Same  : — 

"  If  we  could  only  get  half-a-dozen  truly  able  and 
enlightened  Christian  native  preachers,  they  would  soon 
settfe  a  creed  for  themselves.  When  we  get  freedom  at  home 
as  to  the  subscription  of  articles,  we  shall  be  better  able 
to  work  freely  in  India.  The  chief  difficulty  in  the  way 
of  ad vaijcing'^ Christianity  in  India  is,  unquestionably,  that 
almost  all  the  missionaries  represent  a  narrow,  one-sided 
Christianity." 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  : — 

Glasgow,  Wednesday. 

"  I  think  this  fit  of  sciatica  is  past.  I  had  a  queer 
night  of  it,  between  pain  and  sleeplessness. 

^"  I  employed  part  of  my  idle  time  after  midnight  in 
arrano-ing  the  drawing-room.  You  would  have  laughed  at 
me,  as  I'^did.  But  I  could  find  no  rest  with  that  horrid 
neuralgia.      It  is  gone  to-day." 

U  2 


292  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Friday. 

"  I  got  sleep  from  seven  to  ten  this  morning,  and  I 
feel  bettcir  tlian  I  have  done  for  weeks.  lu  sliurt,  aftei 
this  I  shall  have  a  lease  of  good  health. 

"  Kiss  Cuilchenna  for  me. 

"  In  the  meantime,  '  Guud-uiglit ! '  " 


To  Mr.  SiJiPSOX,  of  Messrs.  Blackwood  «S:  Sons,  Publisliers  : — 

Cuilchenna,  A  ugust  24. 

"  I  send  you  the  last  and  concluding  pages  of  my  MS. 
The  ftict  seems  to  me  incredible,  but  it  is  true.  I  breathe 
more  freely.  My  soul  could  transmigrate  into  8vo.,  and 
He  for  ages  in  a  minister's  library,  unread  and  uncut  hke 
his  own  volume  of  sermons.  0})cn  the  parcel,  gently  and 
reverently  ;  '  there  is  a  spirit  in  the  leaves,'  but  one  Avhich 
your  devils  alone  can  comprehend.  By  the  way,  it  may 
strike  you  that  I  say  nothing  against  the  devil-Avorship, 
so  common  among  the  aborigines  of  India.  The  fact  is 
that  I  respect  it  more  than  any  other  form  of  heathenism. 
Its  origin  is  literary.  I  have  no  doubt  whatever  that  the 
original  printers  of  the  Vedas  had  some  shocking  MS.  of 
Ram,  or  Krishnu,  or  Dasaratha,  or  Ikshwaku,  or  Vishnu, 
to  print,  and  they  manifested  such  genius  in  deciphering 
it,  such  patience  m  printing  it,  such  meekness  in  correct- 
ing it,  that  they  became  objects  of  worship.  The  '  Devil 
Dance'  evidently  originated  in  the  joy  witnesr^d  among 
the  printers  when  the  MS.  of  the  Ramayana  or  Mahabharat 
was  finally  printed.  I  respect  therefore  all  these  types  of 
the  devils  who  lived  in  the  days  of  Noah.  They  may 
have  been  the  '  regular  bricks '  of  Babylon,  with  their 
printed  sides. 

"  The  sreat  Sanscrit  scliolar,  Dr.  Muir,  must  know  all 
about  it.  Was  the  corrector  of  the  press  originally  the 
corrector  of  morals  ?  " 


1 868.  «93 

To  tte  Same  : — 

"  I  should  like  to  see  final  proof  of  that  address 

"  '  To  fight  the  battle  of  Waterloo,'  remarked  the 
Duke,  with  Avhom  I  humbly  but  firmly  compare  myself, 
'  was  nothing.  But  to  reply  to  letters,  criticisms,  &c., 
upon  it,  that  was  the  work  of  real  pain  and  difficulty.' 

"  The  Duke,  I  feel,  was  right ;  but  what  was  his  work 
to  mine  ? 

"  He  got  Water  loo*     I'll  get  water  hot." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  Cuilchenna,  Sept  1. — This  day  ends  my  rest  since  I 
returned  from  India.  I  cannot  tell  what  these  months 
have  been  to  me  of  quiet  repose,  of  health  almost  restored, 
of  blessed  family  life. 

"  I  have  not  been  idle,  in  the  sense  of  doing  nothing 
but  amusing  myself.  I  have  hardly  been  a  Sunday  with- 
out preaching  somewhere  ;  once  on  the  green,  four  times 
at  Ballachulish,  twice  at  Kilmallie,  and  once  at  Fort 
William.  Above  all  I  began  and  finished  here  my 
'  Address  on  Missions,'  which  has  occupied  more  of  my 
thoughts,  and  given  me  more  trouble  than  anything  I  ever 
did.  I  have  also  written  a  chapter  on  '  Peeps  at  the  Far 
East,'  and  a  preface  on  the  '  Characteristics  of  Highland 
Scenery,'  for  a  Book  of  Photographs  illustrative  of  the 
Queen's  book,  with  some  songs,  and  letters  mnumerable, 
besides  preaching  twdce  at  home  and  attending  all  the 
meetings  of  the  India  Mission  Committee. 

"  And  then  we  had  our  evening  readings  from  Shake- 
spear,  or  some  other  worthy  book,  and  delightful  croquet, 
and  such  evenings  at  fishing !  never  to  be  forgotten  for  their 
surpassing  glory  ;  and  two  happy  visits  from  dear  Watson, 
one  of  them  with  Clark  of  Gyah.  It  has  been  a  heavenly 
time,  for  which  with  heart,  soul,  and  strength  I  thank 
God. 

"  India,  how  dreamlike  !  " 

*  Anglice,  lukewarm. 


294  Z//^^  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  Wo  need  not  build  moniorial  cairns, 
Ah  no,  my  wife,  I  cannot  do  it ; 
For  should  wo  do  so  with  the  bairns, 
Somo  day,  my  lovo,  we're  sure  to  ruo  it. 

*'  If  each  dear  hand  lays  down  tlio  stone 
With  lovo  to  all  anniiid  to  guide  it, 
Oh,  who  of  us  Could  come  alone 
lu  atter  years,  and  stand  beside  it  ? 

••Thore's  not  a  spot  ai-ound  this  pbico, 

There's  not  a  mountain,  glen,  or  river. 
But  shall  recall  each  dear  one's  face, 
And  memories  that  perish  never. 

*•  On  every  hill-top  wo  might  raise 

A  'holy  rood,'  though  I  would  rather 
We  gave  upon  it  dailj'  praise 

To  Him  who  is  indeed  our  Father. 

•*  This  time  of  joj'  in  this  dear  plar^e, 

This  Sabbath  rest — to  Him  wo  owe  it, 
And  not  the  least  gift  of  His  grace 

That  both  of  us  have  learned  to  know  it." 


"  A  word  about  politics.  As  to  tlie  Irish  Establish- 
ment, I  am  on  this  point  out  and  out  for  Gladstone.  A 
nation  must  choose  its  own  Church,  and  for  all  such 
practical  pur^DOses  Ireland  is  as  much  an  individuality  as 
India.  No  idea  can  be  right  which  practically  is  so  offen- 
sive to  common  sense  and  to  Jair  iilay  as  the  Irish  Esta- 
blishment. Had  the  rest  of  Britain  been  Roman  Catholic, 
how  should  ^^•o  Presbyterians  have  liked  the  Estabhsh- 
ment  of  a  Roman  Catholic  Church  in  Scotland,  with 
two  millions  of  Presbyterians  and  one  million  of  Roman 
Catholics  ?  We  drove  out  the  Episcopal  Protestant 
Church  when  it  Avas  out  of  harmony  Avith  the  mind  of 
the  nation.  To  square  the  Protestant  Establishment  Avith 
Protestants  Avon't  do.  It  is  an  offence  as  a  privileged 
Church  to  those  subjects  Avho  do  not  beheve  in  its  teach- 
ing, and  to  Avhom  it  is  no  Church  at  all.  If  the  Church 
of  Scotland  is  in  the  same  comlition,  Avhich  I  deny, 
let  it  go.  Justice  nuist  be  done.  The  age  of  selfish 
monopolies  of  every  kind  is  gone.     Let  it  go.     Christianity 


i868.  295 

implies  a  giving  all  we  can,  a  sharing  all  possible  good 
with  others.  To  fear  Romanism !  I  am  ashamed. 
Having  ceased  long  ago  to  fear  the  devil,  I  can  he  fright- 
ened by  nothing  more.  No  evil  need  be  feared,  so  long 
as  good  is  loved.  All  evil  is  doomed ;  God  is  on  the 
side  of  truth  alone. 

"  All  true  politics  should  be  in  the  hne  of  making  all 
the  good  possessed  by  the  nation  or  in  the  nation,  as  much 
as  possible  a  common  good.  No  institution  can  be  right- 
eously defended  unless  it  can  be  proved  to  benefit  the 
country  more  than  its  destruction  could  do." 

To  Rev.  Dr.  Watson  :— 

CuiLCHENNA,  September,  1868. 

"There  is  nothing  I  believe  more  firmly  than  that 
what  is  needed  is  that  a  man  seek  to  know,  believe,  and 
act  out  the  truth  as  he  best  can  ;  and  I  rejoice  in  the 
thought  that  thus  the  great  stones  which  build  up  the 
mighty  Temple  are  cemented  by  thin  layers,  unseen  by 
human  eye,  of  ten  thousand  times  ten  thousand  unknown 
but  great,  because  humble,  men  and  women. 

"  My  highest  ambition  ought  to  be,  and  in  a  feeble 
sense  is,  to  be  a  humble  man,  v>diich  I  am  not.  Although, 
being  not  so,  I  would  not  like  j^ou  to  agree  with  me  !  I 
hope,  however,  by  the  grace  of  God,  to  be  able  at  last  to 
creep  into  a  doorkeeper's  place  in  the  house  of  God,  or  to 
be  among  the  lowest  guests  in  the  lowest  room.  '  It  will 
wonder  me,'  as  the  Germans  say,  should  it  be  so  in  the 
end." 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD  :— 

Abeegeldie,  Septemher  14,  1868. 

"  I  am  much  the  better  for  this  trip.  The  air  is  cold 
and  bracing.  No  strangers.  All  most  kind.  The  Duke 
of  Edinburgh  is  here. 

"  I  preached  happily.  The  Prince  spoke  to  me  about 
preaching  only  twenty  minutes.  I  told  him  I  was  a 
Thomas  a  Becket,  and  would  resist  the  interference  of 
the  State,  and  that  neither  he  nor  any  of  the  party  had 
anything  better  to  do  than  hear  me.      So  I  preached  for 


i^b  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  iVACLEOD. 

forty-seven  minutes,   and  they  were  kind  enough   to  s.ay 
tliey  wished  it  had  been  longer. 

"  Tlie  Prince's  whole  views  as  to  his  duty  to  Scotland 
and  Ireland  as  Avell  as  England,  were  very  high.  He 
spoke  most  kindly  and  wisely  of  Ireland,  aud  seems 
determined  to  run  all  risks  (as  he  did)  to  do  his  duty  to 
her." 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  The  Moderatorship  has  been  offered  me  by  the  Old 
Moderators,  and  I  at  first,  by  word  and  letter,  out  and 
out  refused  it.  I  did  so  chiefly  on  the  ground  of  my 
desire  for  freedom  m  the  expression  of  my  personal 
opmions,  without  involving  the  Church  as  its  representa- 
tive, and  as  also  a  writer  of  whims,  crotchets,  songs  and 
stories,  and  the  editor  of  Good  Words.  But  it  was 
strongly  represented  to  me  by  old  Moderators  that  I  ought 
and  must  accept — that  it  was  a  duty  to  accept,  Avhich  is  a 
very  different  thing  from  a  mere  compliment.  Well,  they 
know  all  about  me,  and  the  worst  about  me,  and  if,  know- 
ing this,  they  like  to  take  me,  it  is  their  own  look  out. 
I  was  free  to  accept  it,  which  I  latterly  did,  feeling  very 
much  the  generosity  of  the  Church  in  so  acting  to  me, 
I  feel  that  I  w^on't  betray  them,  as  I  have  no  object  but 
the  good  of  my  dear  Church,  and,  if  possible,  my  still 
dearer  country." 

"  Nov.  24. — My  family  left  Cuilchenna  at  the  end  of 
September.  I  was  obliged  to  leave  sooner,  and  felt  as 
stiff  and  gouty  at  the  end  as  the  beginning." 


CHAPTER  XXIL 

MODERATOESHIP  AND  lATRONAGE. 
1869—70. 

IS  imanimoiis  election  by  the  General  Assembly 
of  1869  to  the  dignity  of  Moderator  gave  hira 
no  ordinary  satisfaction.  The  event  was  gratifying 
in  itself ;  but  it  was  specially  valued  as  a  token  of 
the  liberality  of  the  Church,  which  could  bestow  such 
an  honour  on  one  who  had  so  recently  fought  for  free- 
dom at  the  risk  of  losing  his  ministerial  position,  and 
was  highly  appreciated  as  a  mark  of  confidence  in  his 
personal  loyalty  and  attachment  to  the  Chui'ch. 

From  liis  JomxAIi : — 

"  Ajjril  Stli. — It  is  a  deep  working  out  of  love  to  say 
or  do  from  true  love  that  which  may  cause  the  object  of 
love  to  manifest  hate  to  us  and  yet  to  love  him  in  spite  of 
his  hate. 

"  How  wonderful  is  the  love  which  can  discern  and 
accept  of  the  love  of  God  revealed  in  and  by  deepest 
suffering,  and  which  rejoices  in  the  love  in  spite  of  the 
suffering  !  '  He  took  the  cup '  and  '  took  the  bread/ 
symbols  of  a  broken  body  and  shed  bood,  and  'gave 
thanks  ! ' 

"  Love  is  the  only  Avay  along  which  the  whole  world 
may  reach  greatness.      The  proud  despise  it  as  too  common 


zqS 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


iind  vulgar.  Tliey  prefer  to  reach  it  by  way  of  genius  or 
talent. 

"...  See  clearly  what  you  wish.  Sincerely  desire  that 
others  should  see  it  also  and  seek  it.  Help  to  bring  them 
into  this  mind  by  perfect  truth  and  candour,  patience, 
meekness,  respect  and  tender  consideration  for  their 
feelings  and  their  prejudices.  Never  despair,  and  believ- 
ing in  God  and  His  good-will  to  man,  be  sure  that  the 
right  will  come  right. 

"  Deal  with  others  as  God  deals  with  you,  and  all  will 
be  done  with  truth  and  charity  and  patience.  Want  of 
candour  and  want  of  confidence  in  our  fellow-men  hinder 
and  weaken  us. 

"  I  believe  we  would  always  gain  right  ends  sooner, 
whether  poUtical  or  ecclesiastical,  if  we  openly  declared 
what  we  wanted,  and  made  no  mystery  of  it.  Wrong 
alone  fears  the  light.  '  Policy,'  in  most  cases,  if  not  in  all, 
belongs  to  the  devil  and  darkness.  It  creates  the  ^Ktv^ 
suspicions  which  it  endeavours  to  conquer." 

To  A.  Strahan,  Esq. : — 

SnAIfDON". 

'*  I  have  come  here  for  a  quiet  day's  work.  I  send  you 
a  morsel  to  keep  your  printer's  devils  going.  I  shall  send 
as  much  more  to-morrow." 


The  Old  Guaid. 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  299 

From  his  JouRXAL :  — 

"May  IHth,  Tuesdny. — I  record  my  gratiturle  to  God 
for  the  quiet  and  comptinitively  unbroken  fortnight  I  have 
bad,  and  the  measure  of  good  heahh  also  given  nie,  and 
the  peace  of  mind  to  prepare  my  long  address  for  the 
Assembly.  I  go  to-morrow  to  reach  the  highest  point  in 
my  public  life.  My  mother,  dear  one  !  wife  and  nine 
children,  aunts,  brothers,  sisters,  nephews  and  nieces,  and 
troops  of  friends  to  be  with  me.  What  a  height  of 
mercy  !  Oh,  may  this  be  a  talent  used  lovingly,  humbly, 
and  unselfishly  for  His  glory!  Such  is  my  earnest 
desire." 

In  giving  the  customary  address  at  the  close  of  the 
Assembly,  be  took  the  opportunity  of  uttering  his  con- 
victions on  several  important  matters  of  ecclesiastical 
policy.  Among  other  points  he  noticed  certain  charac- 
teristics of  the  age  of  which  he  thought  account  should 
be  taken  by  the  Church. 

"  1. The  age  in  which  we  live  is  one  of  searching  in- 
quiry in  regard  to  truth.  We  do  not  complain  of  this ; 
for  however  perverted  the  spirit  may  sometimes  become, 
and  however  much  it  may  manifest  mere  discontent  with 
things  as  they  are,  yet  the  spirit  itself  in  its  essence  is 
good,  and  should  be  hailed  by  all  who  love  the  true  and 
the  right  for  their  own  sakes,  be  the  consequences  to  them- 
selves what  they  may. 

"  2. — Another  characteristic  of  our  time  may  be  de- 
scribed as  a  jealousy  of  all  monopolies,  of  all  privileges 
which  would  secure  good  to  the  few,  at  the  expense, 
directly  or  indirectly,  of  the  many.  And  this  is  being 
applied  to  existing  Church  Establishments.  Treaties 
of  union.  Acts  of  Parliament,  and  the  like,  however  in- 
valuable they  may  be,  even  as  means  of  securing  time  for 
discussion,  or  as  affording  the  strongest  possible  grounds 
for  a  patient  and  considerate  policy,  must  ultimately  yield 
to  the  prime  question  of  political  justice  as  decided  by  a 
national  jury.     The  country  will  determine,  wisely  or  un- 


300  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

wisely,  what  it  deems  best,  not  fur  this  or  that  class,  this 
or  tluit  denomination,  but  for  the  general  good.  And  I 
might  add,  that  establishments  of  religion  are  henceforih 
likely  to  be  dealt  with,  not  according  to  an  imperial  policy 
which  recognises  the  unity  of  the  State,  but  with  reference 
to  the  wants  and  expressed  wishes  of  each  separate  nation- 
ality, so  to  speak,  whether  of  Scotland,  England,  or  Ireland, 
in  which  they  respectively  exist.  On  this  principle  the 
Church  of  Ireland  has  been  dealt  with,  not  as  an  Establish- 
ment connected  with  the  Church  of  England,  far  less  as 
connected  with  the  Establishment  of  Scotland,  but  merely 
wdth  reference  to  its  suitableness  for  Ireland,  as  determined 
by  its  past  history,  present  position,  and  future  prospects. 
And  thus,  too,  must  the  Churches  of  Scotland  and  England 
in  the  long-run  be  tried,  each  on  its  own  merits,  each 
according  to  its  adaptation  to  the  religious  wants  of  the 
country  in  w^hich  it  exists.  Now  this  is  a  principle*  of 
which  national  Churches  should  not  complain,  inasmuch 
as  their  power  and  efficiency  are  insejjarable  from  the 
fact  of  their  being  acceptable  to  the  nation  as  a  whole.  If 
by  any  fault  of  theirs  they  lose  the  confidence  of  the  nation, 
or  fail  to  recover  it  after  a  fair  trial,  their  continuance  is 
more  than  imperilled,  seeing  that  they  exist  for  the  nation, 
and  not  the  nation  for  them." 

"  For  myself,"  he  said,  in  reference  to  the  question  of 
Subscription,  "  I  confess  that  I  do  not  see  how  the  Church 
of  Christ,  or  any  section  of  it,  as  a  society  professedly 
founded  on  the  teaching  of  Christ  and  His  apostles,  and 
having  a  history  since  the  day  of  Pentecost,  can  exist  with- 
out a  creed  expressed  or  administered  in  some  form  or 
other.  As  far  as  I  know,  the  Church  has  always  had  some 
test  for  the  doctrinal  beliefs  of  its  teachers  and  members,  or 
for  their  beliefs  of  the  historic  facts  of  the  New  Testament 
which  constitute  the  basis  of  objective  Christianity.*  More- 
over, the  theory  held  by  us,  as  an  Established  Church,  im- 
plies that  the  State  ought  to  know  what  are  the  doctrines 
professed  by  the  Clim-ch  which  it  ])roposcs  to  cstaV)lish. 

*  John  ii.  10,  11  ;   1  John  iv.  1  ;  2  Peter  ii.  1  ;   1  Cor.  xv.  8. 


MOD  ERA  TORS H IP  A  A'D  PA  TRONA  GE.  301 

Honce  those  doctrines  when  miitnally  agreed  upon,  become 
the  h\w  at  once  of  the  Church  and  of  the  State. 

"  What  therefore  in  these  circumstances  can  he  done  by 
our  National  Church  ?  Shall  we,  for  example,  compel 
every  minister  under  pain  of  dismissal,  or  of  incurring 
charges  of  dishonesty,  to  accept  every  statement,  every 
alleged  fact,  every  argument  for  doctrine,  and  deduction 
from  doctrine,  and  proof  of  doctrine  to  be  found  in  the 
Confession  ?  Is  this  what  the  Church  really  means  before 
God  when  it  uses  the  formula  ?  And  (io  we  practically 
make  no  distinction  between  those  things  on  which 
Christians,  the  most  learned  and  the  most  holy,  may  and 
do  differ  in  all  Evangelical  churches,  and  those  doctrines 
on  which,  as  a  whole,  all  are  at  one  ?  Possibly  we  may 
obtain  honest  agreement  in  minute  details,  but  I  fe;!r  it 
will  only  be  on  the  part  of  the  very  few,  of  the  very  ignorant, 
thus  necessarily  creating  the  dead  unity  of  a  churchyard, 
rather  than  the  living  unity  of  a  Church,  and  fostering  a 
faith  like  that  of  Romanists,  which  rests  practically  upon 
mere  Church  authority.  It  appears  to  me  that  the 
quantity  or  quality  of  any  confession  to  those  wlio  thus 
receive  it,  is  of  no  more  importance  than  the  quantity  or 
quality  of  food  is  to  a  man  who  only  carries  it,  but  does  not 
eat  it.  But  on  the  other  hand  is  it  possible  without  running 
still  greater  risks  for  a  Church  to  give  official  permission 
to  any  office-bearer  to  make  this  distinction  between 
Essentials  and  Non-Essentials  ?  Then  Avhere  is  the  line  to 
be  drawn  ?  And  what  value  would  there  be  in  this  case 
in  any  Confession  at  all  ?  Might  not  the  most  dangerous 
and  Anti-Christian  opinions  be  preached  in  our  pulpits, 
and  the  result  be  that  to  include  sceptics  we  practically 
exclude  true  believers  ?  It  is  much  easier  for  some  to 
sneer  at  creeds  altogether,  and  for  others  to  raise  a  cry  of 
horror  as  if  God's  Word  was  attacked  when  a  doubt  re- 
garding them  is  expressed,  than  for  both  parties  to  carry 
the  burthen  of  fair  and  candid  men,  seriously  considering 
the  difficulty  and  suggesting  such  a  solution  of  it  as  may 
satisfy  our  sense  of  truth  in  regard  to  ourselves,  and  our 
sense  of  justice  and  charity  towards  others. 

"  And  now  let  me  ask  with  unfeigned  humility  and  with 


302  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

a  full  sense  of  the  difficulties  wliich  I  have  iivlicntcd, 
whether  a  practical  solution,  if  not  a  logical  one,  may  not, 
on  the  one  hand,  be  found  in  common  sense  and  s[)iritual 
tact  and  Christian  honour  on  the  part  of  those  who,  with 
doubts  and  difficulties,  desire  to  enter  or  to  remain  in  the 
Church,  and  that  from  no  selfish  motive  ;  and,  on  the  other 
hand,  by  the  exercise  of  those  same  gifts  and  graces 
towards  such  individuals  on  the  part  of  the  Churcli  ?  The 
minister  can  thus  easily  determine  for  liimself  how  far  he 
lionestly  agrees  with  the  teaching  and  doctrine  of  the 
Church,  or  cordially  accepts  it  as  that  which  has  been 
recognised  as  constituting  the  essentials  of  Christianity  by 
the  whole  Catholic  Church  from  the  days  of  the  Apostles  ; 
Avhile  the  Church,  retaining  her  power  to  exercise  discipline 
in  ever\'  case  of  departure  from  the  Confession,  may  also 
exercise  due  caution,  charity,  and  forbearance." 

The  Dean  of  Westminster,  who  was  present  at 
several  meetings  of  the  General  Assembly,  after- 
wards addressed  the  following  letter  to  Dr.  Macleod 
as  Moderator : — 

From  Dean  Stanley  : — 

Deanery,  Westminster. 

"  ilY  DEAR  Moderator, 

"  I  was  obliged  to  leave  in  such  haste  on  Friday,  as 
to  have  had  no  time  to  thank  you  for  the  great  kindness 
of  the  past  week. 

"  It  was  a  sincere  grief  and  disappointment  to  me  not 
to  be  able  to  be  present  to-day  to  hear  your  address,  and 
to-morrow  to  assist  at  your  dinner.  Nothing  but  the  call 
of  imperative  engagements  here  would  have  prevented  it. 

"  Meanwhile  I  have  had  the  very  great  pleasure  and 
profit  of  having  become  accpiainted,  by  personal  intercourse, 
Avith  vour  famous  Assembly,  and  \\\i\\  the  established  orcfan 
of  the  Church  of  Scotland. 

"  I  cannot  bring  myself  to  believe  that  an  institution  so 
represtiutc.'d  is  doomed  to  fall,  or  that   the  Scottish  people 


MODERA  TORSHIP  AND  PA TRONA  GE.  303 

will  consent  to  the  overtlirow  of  a  body  which  gives  such 
pledges  of  dignity  and  progress  to  the  whole  country. 

"  If  at  your  dinner  you  should  think  it  worth  while  to 
refer  to  this  humble  expression  of  regard  from  a  Presbyter 
of  the  sister  Church,  pray  consider  yourself  at  liberty  to 
do  so. 

*'  Yours  sincerely, 

"  A.  P.  Stanley." 

From  his  JOUUNAL  : — 

Aird's  Bay  TIotiSE,  Ivd  August,  1869. 

"  The  ]\Ioderator.ship  was  a  time  of  great  peace  of  heart. 
There  was  no  contretemps  of  any  kind.  The  house  was 
very  full,  and  every  one  was  kind.  Dean  Stanley  attended 
our  Assembly,  and  visited  the  Free  Church  one  also.  He 
lived  in  the  same  hotel  as  we  did.  My  address,  which 
occupied  two  hours,  was  delivered  to  a  crowded  house, 
and  was  kindly  accepted.      It  has  since  been  published. 

"  After  the  Assembly,  on  the  following  Sunday  I  went 
to  Balmoral  ;  and  at  the  end  of  June  went  with  the 
Anti-Patronage  Committee  to  London.  The  Scotch 
Members  gave  us  a  dinner.  Had  an  interview  with 
Gladstone,  accompanied  by  twenty-seven  M.P.'s.  It  was 
my  own  decided  opinion  that  we  should  go  to  Government 
to  do  away  with  Patronage.  If  they  refused  to  aid  us, 
they  could  not  accuse  us  of  want  of  sympathy  with  the 
country  ;  and  if  they  aided  us,  they  could  not  destroy  us. 
They  could  not  well  order  new  clothes  for  a  man,  and 
then  kill  him. 

"  Some  think  that  Gladstone,  in  his  interview  as  reported, 
Avished  that  in  the  memorial  which  he  su^ro-ested,  we  should 
discuss  the  question  of  sharing  endowments  with  other 
Presbyterian  Churches.  No  one,  at  the  time,  as  far 
as  I  know,  believed  this.  Had  I  done  so,  although 
warned  by  several  influential  Members  of  Parliament  not 
to  discuss  anything  at  that  interview,  and  also  feeling 
the  extreme  difficulty  of  my  position  as  representing 
the  Church,  accompanied  by  a  deputation  Avith  so  many 
M.P.'s  of  different  sentiments,  yet  I  would  have  refused, 
without  consent  of  the  Church,  to  entertain  and  discuss  the 


304  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

question  of  Disestablishment,  when  wc  were  comniissionoci 
to  consider  Patronage  only.  ]3ut  a  leader  in  tlie  Daily 
Revieiu  made  me  think  that  this  meaning  might  be  given 
to  the  words,  and  possibl}'  truly,  so  I  protested  in  a  speech 
given  in  Glasgow,  at  my  brother's  induction  dinner  to  Park 
Church,  against  what  seemed  to  me  the  insulting  idea  of 
asking  us  to  entertain  such  a  question,  although  the 
Church  micfht  do  it.  This  called  forth  an  abusive 
article."  * 

Ecclesiastical  policy  was  never  congenial  to  him, 
and  it  is  doubtful  how  far  he  was  fitted  to  be  in 
this  sphere  the  leader  of  a  party.  He  had  strong 
convictions  as  to  the  principles  by  which  a  national 
Chnrch  should  be  guided,  and  drew  a  line,  clear 
enough  to  his  own  mind,  between  the  generous 
comprehension  which  he  advocated,  and  the  latitudi- 
narianism  which  would  override  the  limits  of  catholic 
belief  But  he  had  neither  patience  nor  taste  for 
diplomacy,  nor  for  the  finesse  required  to  '  manage'  a 
party.  His  special  calling,  in  the  circumstances  in 
Avliich  the  Church  had  been  placed  since  1843,  had 
respect  to  her  life  and  practical  work ;  and  he 
felt  that  in  proportion  as  he  helped  to  make  her 
better   he   would    also    make    her    stronger.      But, 

*  Considerable  difference  of  opinion  prevailed  as  to  the  exact  words 
used  by  Mr.  Gladstone,  but  that  Dr.  Maclcod  had  quite  apprehended 
their  purport,  may  be  gathered  from  the  following  letter,  written  by 
Mr.  Gladstone's  Secretary  to  the  Eev.  Mr.  Dykes,  of  Ayr: — 

"Mr.  Gladstone  has  no  report  by  him  of  his  conversation  with  the 
deputation  that  waited  on  him  in  the  summer,  and  is  una')le,  without 
that  assistance,  to  make  any  positive  assertion  on  the  subject ;  but 
according  to  his  best  recollection,  ho  gave  no  opinion  of  his  own  on 
the  proposal  of  the  deputation,  but  inquired  if  it  had  been  considered 
what  view  was  or  would  be  taken  of  the  proposal  by  the  other  Presby- 
terian couununions  in  Scotland,  and  what  etr<'ct  its  adoption  would 
have  on  the  relation  between  those  communions  (regard  being  had  to 
their  origin)  and  the  Established  Church." 


MODERATORSIIIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  305 

although  he  was  not  an  ecclesiastical  politician,  he 
acquired  an  influence  in  the  councils  of  the  Church, 
and,  what  was  still  more  imiDortant,  an  influence  beyond 
her  pale  which  was  perhaps  wider  and  more  vital  than 
that  of  any  or  all  the  leaders  of  parties.* 

On  this  subject  Dean  Stanley  wrote : — 

"  He  was  the  chief  ecclesiastic  of  the  Scottish  Church. 
No  other  man  during  the  last  thirty  years  in  all  spiritual 
ministrations  so  nearly  filled  the  place  of  Chalmers  ;  no 
other  man  has  occupied  so  high  and  important  a  position 
in  guiding  the  ecclesiastical  movements  of  his  country  since 
the  death  of  Eobertson,  we  might  almost  say,  since  the 
death  of  Carstares  ....  Macleod  represented  Scottish 
Protestantism  more  than  any  other  single  man.  Under 
and  around  liim  men  would  q-ather  who  would  crather  round 
no  one  else.  When  he  spoke  it  was  felt  to  be  the  voice, 
the  best  voice  of  Scotland." 

It  was  fortunate,  therefore,  for  the  movement  for 
the  Abolition  of  Patronage,  that  when  it  first  took 
definite  shape,  the  Church  was  represented  by  one 
whose  antecedents  gave  him  claims  to  attention  in 
professing  to  speak  on  grounds  of  public  rather  than 
sectarian  policy. 

His  own  views  on  the  question  of  Patronage  were 
sufficiently  defined.  He  never  for  a  moment  imagined 
that  it  was  contrary  to  Scripture  ;  and,  as  actually 
exercised  in  the  Church,  he  deemed  there  might  be 
many  advantages  as  well  as  disadvantages  connected 
with  its  continuance.     It  was,  however,  on  grounds 

*  I  am  reminded,  that  since  the  Disruption  there  haye  been  no 
parties  in  the  Church.     This  may  be  true  in   a  technical  sense,  but 
practically,  each  Assembly  has  been  divided  on  special  qTiestions  ;  and 
these  divisions  have  usually  been  determined  by  a  general  policy. 
VOL.   II.  X 


3o6  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

of  Christian  expediency,  and  in  view  of  tlie  relation 
of  tlie  C'liurdi  to  tlic  country,  that  he  now  supported 
its  abolition.  Even  as  early  as  1843  he  had  foreseen 
the  necessity  of  moving  in  this  direction,  and  in  his 
closing  address  as  Moderator  of  the  General  Assembly 
he  strongly  urged  the  motives  by  ^vhich  the  national 
Church  ought,  in  his  opinion,  to  be  actuated. 

"  By  a  national  Clinrch,  I  mean  one  whose  clergy  are 
secured  a  decent  support  out  of  certain  funds  set  apart 
by  the  State  for  their  use  ;  a  Church  whose  doctrines  have 
been  accepted  by  the  State,  as  those  which  are  henceforth 
to  characterise  the  teaching  of  its  ministers,  and  whose 
government  and  discipline  are  in  their  several  outlmes  de- 
fined, recognised,  and  pro'ected  by  law.  Such  an  organi- 
zation exists,  not  for  tl?j  sake  of  the  clergy,  but  for  the 
sake  of  the  country.  The  people  do  not  thus  belong  to  the 
Church,  but  the  Church  to  the  people.  Our  stipends  are 
not  ffivcu  for  our  own  sake,  but  for  theirs.  The  Church  is 
their  property,  and  all  her  ministrations  are  established  for 
their  advantage.  If  tliis  be  so,  then  a  national  Church  can 
never,  without  forfeiting  its  true  position,  regard  what  are 
called  its  own  interests  as  being  in  any  way  independent 
of  the  interests  of  the  country,  but  rather  as  subordinate 
to  them. 

"  A  Christian  body,  self-supported,  whose  members  are 
unit(Hl  by  a  mere  voluntary  agreement,  may  exist  for  itself 
only,  and  teach  as  it  pleases,  being  answerable  alone  to 
conscience  and  to  God.  Not  so  a  Church  which  has  had 
conferred  upon  it  the  privileges  and  consequent  responsi- 
bilities of  an  EstaV)lishment.  Every  question  which  comes 
before  such  a  Church  for  decision  must  be  judged  of  with 
reference  to  the  general  interests  of  the  nation.  Accord- 
ing to  this  principle,  the  views  and  M'ishes  of  Churches 
dissenting  from  our  conununion,  on  grounds  Avhich  it  may 
be  possil)lc  for  us  to  remove,  and  the  beliefs  even  of  those 
of  our  fellow  countrymen  who  reject  all  Churches,  demand 
from  us  earnest  and   anxious   consideration.      The   oilice- 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  307 

bearers  of  the  national  Church  are  trustees  of  a  properly 
which  is  theirs  only  in  so  far  as  they  regard  it  as  a  com- 
mon boon,  which  all  citizens  are  entitled  to  share.  How 
many  of  our  divisions  might  have  been  prevented,  had  all 
parties,  acting  on  this  principle,  carried  in  common  tlie 
burden  of  the  Church,  and  endeavoured  to  make  her 
claims  harmonious  at  once  with  the  righteous  deuiauds  of 
the  State  and  of  the  country  !  How  much  might  yet  bo 
(lone  if  wxMvould  pass  over  all  the  narrow  space  l)ound('d  i>y 
Church  party  into  the  wider  space  limited  only  by  Chris- 
tian patriotism  !  We  are  thus  bound,  as  ftir  as  is  con- 
sistent with  our  existence  as  a  Christian  Church,  to  include 
within  it  as  many,  and  to  exclude  from  it  as  few  as  possible; 
of  our  countrymen.  And  in  order,  I  repeat,  to  do  this, 
we  should  weigh  their  conscientious  convictions  whether  as 
to  government,  forms  of  w^orship,  or  doctrines  of  minor 
importance,  in  the  light  of  that  true  Christian  charity,  which 
is  at  once  the  hio^hest  form  of  freedom  and  of  restraint." 

His  anxiety  was,  if  possible,  to  rebuild  the  Churcli 
on  a  foundation  sufficiently  wide  to  include  the 
Presbyterianism  of  Scotland.  He  did  not,  however, 
delude  himself  with  the  hope  of  any  corporate  union 
immediately  taking  place  with  the  Free  Church  and 
United  Presbyterians,  in  consequence  of  the  abolition 
of  Patronage.  He  knew  too  well  their  historical 
antecedents,  understood  too  well  the  spirit  which 
years  of  antagonism  had  created,  and  had  weighed 
too  carefully  other  practical  difficulties  to  expect  any 
such  happy  consummation.  In  reference  to  this  ho 
used  to  quote  from  '  Christabel '  these  lines — 

**  Alas  !  they  Jbad  been  friends  in  youth  ; 

But  whispering  tongues  can  i^oison  truth; 

And  constancj^  lives  in  realms  above ; 

And  life  is  thorny  ;  and  youth  is  vain ; 

And  to  be  wroth  with  one  we  love, 

Doth  work  like  madness  in  the  brain. 
*  *  >;:  *  -N  * 

X  2 


3o8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Each  fspnke  words  of  hiph  (lisdain 

And  insult  to  his  hcarl's  best  lirothor; 

They  parted — ne'er  to  meet  a«?aia  ! 

But  never  eitlicr  found  another 

To  free  the  hollow  he.irt  from  paininj^^ 

Tliey  stood  aloof,  the  .scars  7emaininf<, 

Like  cliffs  which  had  l)een  rent  asunder  ; 

A  dreary  sea  now  flows  between  ; — 

But  neither  heat,  nor  frost,  nor  thunder, 

8hall  wholly  do  away,  I  ween. 

The  mai-ks  of  that  which  once  htth  been." 

But  he  certainly  dared  to  hope  that,  after  time 
had  exercised  its  healing  influence,  these  Churches 
would  be  thankful  for  the  preservation  of  the 
national  endowments  for  religion,  and  appreciate 
the  attempt  now  made  to  open  the  doors  of  the 
Establishment  as  wide  as  possible  to  all  Presby- 
terian bodies.  In  these  endowments  he  saw  the 
only  sufficient  security  for  the  existence  of  a  well 
paid  and  well  educated  ministry  for  the  nation.  All 
he  had  seen  and  learned  of  Voluntaryism  in  America, 
and  all  he  had  known  of  its  working  in  this  country, 
had  convinced  him  that,  when  existing  alone,  it  was 
not  only  insufficient  for  the  proper  support  of  the 
Church  in  poor  districts,  but  involved  in  its  very 
nature  elements  of  danger  to  the  tone,  independ- 
ence, and  liberty  of  the  clergy.*  It  seemed  to  him 
therefore  a  betrayal  of  the  interests  of  Christianity 
in  Scotland,  where  the  people  were  practically  at  one 
in  their  beliefs,  to  throw  away  the  patrimony  of  the 
Church  for  the  sake  of  a  party  triumjih.  lie  was 
therefore  determined,  as  far  as  in  him  lay,  to  con- 
serve the  Church  for  patriotic  ends,  and,  with  this 
view,   was  anxious  to  bring  her  government  as  much 

*  See  his  Si)eech  on  Patronairn  in  the  Asscnibly  of  1870. 


MO  DERA  TORS  HIP  A  i\D  PA  7  RON  A  GE.  3  0  9 

as  possible;  into  harmony  with  the  kiwful  wishes,  and 
even  the  prejudices  of  the  people. 

"  AVe  must  endeavour  to  build  up  a  Church,  national  but 
not  sectarian,  most  tolerant,  but  not  indifferent — a  Church 
with  liberty  but  not  licence,  endowed  but  not  covetous, 
and  which,  because  national,  should  extend  her  sympathy, 
her  charity,  if  need  be  her  protection,  to  other  Churches, 
and  to  ever}^  man  who,  by  word  or  deed,  tries  to  advance 
the  good  of  OLir  beloved  country."* 

Some  months  after  the  deputation  had  waited  on 
Mr.  Gladstone,  he  wrote  to  the  Duke  of  Argyll  in  the 
following  terms  : — 

imli  March,  1870. 
"  No  man  realises  more  fully  or  intensely  than  I  do  the 
difficulties  which  surround  us  on  every  side  in  attempting 
to  preserve  the  Church  as  an  Established  Church,  or  even 
to  secure  for  Presbyterianism  the  ecclesiastical  funds  of  the 
country.  We  cannot  remain  in  our  present  position  and 
receive  an  attack,  for  our  doing  so  would  provoke  an  attack, 
and  justly  too,  as  that  would  not  be  acting  a  worthy  part. 
We  cannot  retract  after  the  vote  for  movement  in  regard  to 
Patronage.  We  must  advance,  stronger  in  numbers,  in 
activity,  in  talent  and  influence,  than  during  any  previous 
period  subsequent  to  '43  ;  and  stronger  still  I  humbly 
hope  in  an  unselfish  desire,  as  becomes  a  national  Church, 
to  seek  the  good  of  the  country.  And  for  this  end  we 
ought  to  be  "vyilling  to  share  as  for  as  practicable  the 
advantages  or  the  j^r^stige  of  the  Establishment,  or  at 
the  worst,  its  endowments,  with  all  who  will  receive  them. 
I  advance  therefore  co  make  honourable  terms,  not  with 
'  the  enemy,'  or  mutineers,  but  with  those  regiments  who 
have  left  us,  formed  themselves  into  a  Free  Corps,  and  have 
weakened  in  so  many  ways  the  army  which  should  be 
united  against  the  common  foe.  Our  attempt  is  not 
hopeless  !     No  attempt  can  be  so  which,  before  God,  seeks 

■"  i-'peecli  in  Asf=embly,  ISTO. 


310  LIFE  OF  XORM AX  MACLEOD. 

to  do  good.  A  higlior  blessing  in  some  form  must  eome 
thiiu  if  no  snoli  attempt  is  madi;.  I  liave  faith  in  (iod. 
All  will  depend  on  the  spirit  which  may  actuate  the 
Churches. 

"  The  removal  of  Patronage  I  am  aware  is  hut  one 
step,  and  not  the  greatest.  ]>nt  I  fancy  that  if  it  could  l)e 
enacted  that  induction  should  take  place  '  according  to  the 
laws  of  the  Church,'  leaving  liberty  to  regulate  from  time 
to  time  the  laws  regarding  the  election,  that  the  difficulty 
of  '  spiritual  independence  '  would  be  practically  solved. 

"  The  Free  Church  could  not,  without  di^nying  her 
principles  and  history,  refuse  at  least  to  consider  the 
question  in  the  gravest  manner,  and  the  responsibility  of 
refustd  would  be  laid  on  her.  A  considerable  party  in 
that  Church,  and  in  the  whole  north  of  Scotland,  which 
has  declared  against  union  with  the  Voluntaries,  and 
mourns  over  the  'sad  defection'  of  Candlish,  Guthrie,  and 
Buchanan,  would  gladly  entertain  the  idea.  The  United 
Presbyterians,  Avho  in  their  political  eagerness  to  join 
the  Free  Church,  consented  to  let  tlte  'principle  of  Estab- 
lishment bo  '  an  open  question,'  could  hardly  make  its 
practice  fa  mere  i>  s.  cl.  affair)  be  a  ground  for  ru})ture, 
and  thus,  if  there  was  an  Endowed  Free  Church  in  friendly 
cooperation — in  unity,  if  not  union — with  those  tender 
consciences  which  '  cannot  touch  the  coined  money,'  we 
should  have  reform,  in  harmony  with  our  past  history,  and 
not  Revolution. 

"  In  spite  of  all  that  Vohnitary  Churches  have  done, 
never  were  endowments,  in  addition  to  free  gifts,  more 
needed,  if  we  are  to  have,  beyond  the  towns,  clergy  who 
can  hold  their  own  among  a  ctdtivated  and  educated 
laity. 

"  There  is  a  great  fear  on  the  part  of  some  of  our  Broad 
Churchmen,  lest  an  immigration  of  barbarian  races  into 
the  Establishment  should  extinguish  all  the  freedom  and 
break  up  the  Church  by  a  series  of  massacres,  or  force 
other  and  counter  migrations  to  Independent  or  Episcopal 
Churches.  Th(\v  tell  me  I  shoidd  be  the  tirst  man  to  be 
shot  !  But  I  do  not  fear  this.  Indeed,  I  begin  to  fear 
much   more  lest    liberty    should   di>uvnerate   into  licence ' 


MODERA  TORSHIP  AND  PA  TRONA  GE.  3 1 1 

anyhow,    I   have    confidence   in    truth,   time,    and    puhlic 
opinion. 

"  I  write  to  3'ou  without  reserve.  I  believe  in  your  good- 
will to  the  Church,  your  love  to  your  country.  '  Who 
knoweth  whether  thou  art  come  to  the  kingdom  for  such 
a  time  as  this  ! '  " 


To  Dr.  Charteris  : — 

"  There  would  be,  on  the  one  hand,  great  danger  to  fair 
and  honest  freedom  by  union  at  present  with  the  Free 
Chiu'ch.  We  sliould  be  terribly  tried  by  a  Demon  of 
Dogma,  wandering  in  dry  places,  and  no  real  man  daring 
to  pass  that  way.  Even  John  Calvin  would  be  strangled. 
Hymns  !  Organs  !  Simpler  Creed  !  Simpler  formula  ! 
Pfui !     All  gone,  and  the  Church  would  soon  follow. 

"  I  see  no  chance  of  any  legislation  by  which  their  idea 
of  spiritual  independence  can  be  made  possible.  Do  you  ? 
And  if  possible,  desirable.      Do  you  ? 

"But,  on  the  other  hand,  I  hold  an  endowed  Church,  accord- 
ing to  all  exjierience,  to  be  almost  essential  to  our  possessing 
men  of  culture,  and  such  are  a  great  gift  from  God.  We 
may  do  without  them,  but  we  shall  do  immensely  better 
with  them,  and  this  leads  to  union,  for  the  strengthening 
of  the  Church. 

"  And  again,  bad  as  high  and  dry,  tight-laced,  hard 
straight-line  orthodoxy  is,  there  is  something  inconceiv- 
ably worse,  and  that  is  cold,  heartless,  breathless,  specu- 
lative unbelief.  If  I  fear  the  Presbyterian  Church  of 
Scotland  being  frozen  by  orthodcjxy  into  fixed  and  dead 
forms  as  respects  thought,  I  fear  a  million  times  more 
her  ministers  and  peoj^le  being  frozen  into  eternal  lumps 
of  ice. 

"  Lastly,  if  our  Church  in  Scotland  is  to  do  the  utmost 
possible  work  as  a  Church  for  Scotland,  it  must  be  by 
method,  by  the  saving  of  waste  power,  whether  of  men  or 
money,  and  by  gaining  more  moral  and  spiritual  power  by 
means  of  fcAver  temptations  to  nialice,  envy,  pride,  selfish 
aml)ition,  «S:c.,  and  by  affording  greater  inducements  and 
opportunities  to  cultivate  common  sympathies  and  common 


312  I. IFE  OF  NORMA X  J/A  CLEOD. 

aftections  in  praying,  preaching,  and  working  to^^'etlior  in 
advancing  onr  Lord's  kingdom.     All  this  points  to  union." 

From  his  JoURXAL  : — 

Aird's  Bay,  Loch  Etive,  1869. 

"  At  the  end  of  June,  I  went  with  Watson  and  Strahan 
to  ]>('rlin.  I  fixed  the  missionaries  to  the  Aboriirines  of 
India.  We  left  Glasgow  on  Tuesday,  and  I  was  back  on 
the  next  Friday  week.  I  had  a  most  uncomfortable 
journey,  and  was  very  wearied.  I  returned  by  Hamburg ; 
since  that  I  have  been  here." 


To  Canon  Kingsley  : — 

Aird's  Bay  House,  July  24,  1869. 

"  Your  note  about  Captain  A—  came  when  I  was  pccujjy- 
ing  the  Chair  of  the  General  Assembly.  After  that  I  had 
to  go  to  Balmoral ;  then  London  ;  then  Berlin  ;  all  on  public 
business.  Now  I  am  trying  to  rest  beneath  the  shadow  of 
Cruachan,  and- to  pump  out  the  letters  which  have  nearly 
drowned  me. 

"  What  a  glorious  country  this  is  !  I  think  Loch  Etive 
the  finest  loch  in  the  Highlands.  It  worms  its  way  like 
Olaf  Tryggveson's  snake-boat  far  up  among  silent  hills 
for  thirty  miles,  with  branching  glens  going  nowhere, 
here  and  there  a  hut  like  a  boulder,  ending  with  the 
shepherds  of  Etive  Glen. 

"  It  is  worth  coming  all  this  way  to  row  up  the  Loch, 
for  there  is  no  road  on  either  side,  and  its  shores  are 
unpolluted.  No  Murray  knoweth  them.  The  trail  of 
the  old  clans  has  not  been  obliterated  by  foot  of  civilised 
man.  An  old  seal  raised  his  head  and  wondered  if  I  was 
going  to  join  Prince  Charlie.  The  sheep  stare  at  me. 
The  hills  seem  to  dress  themselves  in  their  best  robes 
and  colours  to  receive  strangers. 

"  Well,  Benares  and  Bunawe,  Lucknow  and  Lome  are 
queer  contrasts  ! 

"  What  a  glory  before  me  is  that  Cruachan  !  For  a  week 
after  arrivinij  I  was  so  fatTLred  and  out  of  sorts  that  Nature 
touched  me  only  on  the  outside.      My  sold  seemed  Nature 


I 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  313 

proof.      It  begins  now  to  receive  some  of  its  beauty ;   and 
next  to  the  Bible  I  find  Nature  the  holiest  tea,cher. 

"It  is  fortunate  for  me  that  you  will  be  unable  to  read 

this." 

From  liis  Journal  : — 

"  20^/i  August,  18G9. — I  leave  in  an  hour  for  Inverie, 
Mr.  Baird's  place  in  the  north. 

"  I  have  had  a  wonderful  time  of  happiness  with  all  my 
dear  children,  all  so  well  and  joyous  ;  one  of  those  many 
times  of  heaven's  sunshine  on  earth  we  have  had  together, 
but  which  cannot,  in  the  transition  period  of  education  by 
trial,  be  repeated  often, 

"  I  |)reached  every  Sunday,  except  the  one  I  was  in 
Glasgow.  I  have  written  two  'Peeps' — Madras  and  Calcutta; 
also  a  long  article  in  Record  on  the  Aborigines,  and  at  least 
200  letters.  We  have  had  little  trips — on  Loch  Awe  and 
Loch  Etive — once  with  dear  Shairp. 

"  I  have  been  made  Dean  of  the  Thistle.** 

His  former  assistant  and  minister  of  his  Mission 
Church,  the  Rev.  Mr.  Young,  of  Ellon,  gives  the  fol- 
lowing reminiscence  of  an  evening  spent  at  Aird's 
Bay:-^ 

"  The  Doctor  had  retired  early  in  the  day  into  a  quiet 
room  for  work,  but  as  the  day  wore  on,  and  he  heard  us 
at  croquet,  he  left  his  letters  and  India  Mission  work  and 
joined  us  for  a  while.  He  likes  this  game,  for  it  brings 
him  into  the  open  air  and  the  society  of  his  children,  and 
so  enthusiastic  does  he  get  that  he  affects  even  to  lose  his 
temper  as  the  play  goes  against  his  side.  It  was,  however, 
only  a  brief  interlude  of  relaxation,  for  he  was  soon  at  his 
writing  again,  and  scarcely  emerged  till  late  in  the  even- 
ing. We  had  gathered  in  the  drawing-room,  and  the  music 
liad  just  commenced,  when  a  tap  on  the  window  outside 
summoned  me  to  join  him.  He  is  tired  after  his  day's 
work,  and  sits  smokincr  under  a  tree.      The  solemn  calm 


31+  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

and  hoauty  of  the  landscape,  seen  in  the  fast-fading  h'ght, 
have  suggested  a  multitude  of  profound  thoughts  which 
he  wishes  to  communicate.  1  sit  ahuost  speechless,  for 
he  discourses  most  marvellously  ahout  God's  mercies  ami 
their  varied  effects  on  the  grateful  and  ungrateful.  There 
is  a  nervous  elo(iuence  in  his  words,  and  although  it  is 
very  dark,  I  know  that  his  whole  frame  heaves  with 
euiotion,  as  he  pictures  tlie  hard  struggle  which  the 
Christian  has  in  acquiescing  in  the  divine  will  when 
that  will  recjuires  the  surrender  of  some  choice  bless- 
ing. This  leads  to  a  touching  autobiographical  sketch,  in 
-svhich  he  tells  of  the  deep  waters  he  had  some  years 
before  passed  through  during  the  time  Mrs.  Macleod  w:rs 
iu  fever.  I  never  was  so  impressed  as  by  that  conversa- 
tion. The  sacred  quiet  of  the  late  evening,  the  earnest 
pathos  of  the  speaker,  and  the  thrilling  nature  of  the 
theme  powerfully  atiected  me.  When  he  ended  Ave  wii)ed 
the  tears  from  our  eyes,  and  joined  the  family  in  the 
drawing-room,  and  enjoyed  music  and  singing  the  rest  of 
the  evening." 

From  his  JorRNAL  : — 

"December  Slst,  1869. — In  a  few  hours  the  century  will 
have  lived  its  threescore  and  ten  years  !  I  question  if  since 
time  began,  w'ith  the  exception  of  three  or  four  great  eras, 
such  as  the  calling  of  Abraham,  the  Exodus,  the  Birth  of 
Christ,  the  Reformation,  the  invention  of  printing,  or  it 
may  be,  the  breaking  up  of  the  Roman  Empire,  the  birth 
of  Mahomet,  or  of  Buddah — such  an  intiuential  period 
has  existed.  The  invention  of  the  steam-engine,  the 
discovery  of  gas,  telegraph,  chloroform  ;  with  the  freedom 
of  slaves,  the  British  acquisition  of  hidia,  the  o])cuing  up 
of  the  world  to  the  gospel,  the  translations  of  the  Scrip- 
tures, will  make  it  for  ever  memorable. 

"  It  has  been  a  happy  year  to  myself,  and  some  events 
in  it  have  been  to  me  interesting  personally. 

"  I  have  collected  some  thousands  for  Ih^tiring  Alhnv- 
ance  Fund  :  addressed  very  many  meetings  on  Missions  ; 
founded  and  collected  for  Aborigines  Mission  ;  got  free  site 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  315 

for  new  Mission  Church  at  Bluevale  ;  aided  in  arranofing^ 
plan  for  ten  new  churches.  Written  eleven  articles  for 
Good  Words. 

"January,  1870. — We  had  our  old  gathering  on  the 
first  of  the  year  at  Shandon.  My  beloved  mother,  alive 
and  hearty,  at  the  head  of  our  table !  Such  mercies 
are  awful  !  And  very  rare  it  is  in  a  man  of  jfifty-eight  to 
have  such  a  mother — so  grand  and  good,  so  full  of  love 
and  sympathy — almost  painful  from  its  intensity— to  be 
one  with  him  from  his  infancy  ! 

".  .  .  .  God  Almighty,  imbue  us  all  with  Thy  charity! 
The  longer  I  live  the  less  do  I  desire  to  judge  any  man. 
There  is  no  one  but  God  can  decide  as  to  any  man's 
character.  This  is  a  product  of  so  many  causes — tem- 
perament, the  society  into  which  he  has  been  cast,  intel- 
lectual capacity,  the  teaching  he  has  received,  whether 
from  the  books  he  has  read,  the  clergy — perhaps  bigots, 
ignorant  men,  suj^erstitious  dogmatists,  mere  talkers — he 
has  heard,  and  a  thousand  circumstances — that  we  dare 
not  condemn  the  man,  though  from  the  light  God  has 
given  us  we  may  say,  '  to  me  this  is  right  or  wrong.'  Many 
a  so-called  'infidel'  is  m^arer  the  kingdom  of  God  than 
many  an  '  orthodox  '  minister.  Many  an  unbeliever  is  a 
protest  against  those  who  in  honest  ignorance  have,  in  the 
name  of  God,  spoken  what  is  untrue.  What  we  all  need 
is  a  child-like  spirit  to  trust  God,  to  hear  God,  to  believe 
that  there  is  a  God  who  loves  us.  Who  desires  our  indi- 
vidual Avell-being,  Who  can  and  Avill  teach  us,  and  le.-ul 
us  into  all  essential  truth,  such  truth  as  will  make  us  His 
children  in  teachableness  and  obedience. 

"  The  clergy  have  often  done  great  damage  to  the 
truth.  They  have  sought  more  to  fit  in  what  has  been 
proposed  as  truth  to  them,  to  a  system  of  theology  given 
them  in  the  Divinity  Hall,  than  to  see  it  in  the  light  of 
God  himself. 

"  It  is  an  awful  thought  that  some  men  cannot  bring 
God's  own  revealed  truth  into  the  light  of  reason  and  con- 
science.  I  have  such  profound  faith  in  revealed  truth  to  us 
as  to  rejoice  that  it  shall  be  tried  by  what  God  has  revealed 
in  us.      I  would  tremble  for  any  truth  that  could  be  main- 


3 1 6  L IFE  Oh •  A'OjRMA N  MA  CL  ROD. 

taint'd  l)y  uothing  more  than  by  the  authority  of  the 
letter,  by  an  '  it  is  written.'  Jesus  used  this  argument  ; 
but  it  was  to  the  Devil,  who  had  no  spiritual  eye  to 
see.  So  may  we  address  his  di.sciples,  and  leave  them  to 
think  of  it.  Yes,  and  it  answers  to  what  is  written  in 
the  soul,  conscience,  hopes,  sorrows,  joys,  and  expecta- 
tions of  humanity.  I  almost  adore  the  Bible.  The  more 
I  read  it,  without  almost  any  thought  of  questions  of 
inspiration,  but  simply  as  a  record  of  fact,  of  precept 
and  principle,  of  judgment  and  of  mercy,  of  God's  acts 
and  'ways'  (i.e.  the  principles  of  his  acts),  all  culminating  in 
Christ,  as  a  revelation  of  wliaL  God  is  to  man,  and  what 
man  was  created  to  be  to  God,  the  more  my  whole  moral 
being  responds  to  it,  as  being  a  revelation  of  God.  The 
authority  of  the  Bible  is  to  me  supreme,  because  it  '  com- 
mands '  my  reason  and  conscience.  I  feel  it  is  from  God. 
It  was  once  otherwise  with  me.  It  is  so  no  more  ;  and  the 
older  I.^et,  the  more  my  spirit  says  amen  to  it. 

"I  feel  a  great  ditlercnce  from  looking  at  revealed 
truth,  not  as  it  dovetails  into  a  system  of  theology,  but 
as  it  appears  in  the  light  of  God,  as  revealed  in  Christ. 
A  divine  instinct  seems  to  assure  me  '  this  is  true,' 
*  it  is  like  God,'  '  it  is  in  harmony  with  all  I  know  of 
Him.' 

"I  believe  all  our  churches  are  breaking  up.  Wo  have 
almost  settled  the  questions  of  mere  dogmatics.  Calvinism, 
Arminianism,  and  all  the  ifrnxs  connected  with  men  have 
done  their  work  in  educating  the  Church.  Rome  tries 
by  the  force  of  numbers  centred  in  Papal  infallibility  in 
regard  to  dogma,  to  hold  the  Church  together.  Protes- 
tantism is,  in  another  form,  trying  to  create  unity  b) 
restraints  that  are  also  external.  But  what  w'e  crave  foi 
is  the  union  of  life,  '  Christ  in  us,'  which  alone  can  con- 
vince the  world  that  a  new  supernatural  power  has  really 
entered  humanity,  a  power  Avhicli  alone  can  produce  in  us 
a  new  character,  and  make  us  partakers  of  the  divine  nature. 
I  think  we  shall  be  all  smtishcd  as  respects  churches  and 
systems,  and  this,  as  a  negative  preparation  for  the  second 
coming  of  Christ — not  an  objective  coming,  but  one  through 
the  Spirit,  as  Christ  in  us,  the  whole  life  of  Christ,  unitinj? 


MODERATORSHIP  AXD  PATRONAGE.  317 

all  who  know  Him,  as  the  one  ho[)e  of  glory.  l^Fay  Thy 
kingdom  come  I 

"  The  power  of  mere  traditional  views  of  so-called 
Christianity  is  to  me  utterly  astounding.  I  heard  an  ex- 
cellent ^young  man  preach  last  night.  He  logically  carried 
out  the  assumption  that  our  Lord  endured  the  very  punish- 
ment our  sins  deserved.  Hence,  he  said,  the  damned  in 
hell  a^one  could  understand  His  sufferings  !  Yet  such  mon- 
strous— shall  I  call  it  blasphemy  ? — never  struck  him. 
God  forgive  us  clergy,  who  have  made  men  infidels  by  all 
the  '  hard  speeches '  we  have  in  our  ignorance  uttered 
against  Thee. 

"  The  Lord  reigns  !  Let  the  earth  be  glad  !  Our  hope 
is  in  Him  who  '  is  able,' — who  else  can  ? — to  give  us  light 
and  life, 

"  My  life  is  not  what  I  would  have  chosen.  I  often 
yearn  and  long  for  quiet,  for  reading,  and  for  thought.  It 
5  eems  to  me  to  be  a  very  paradise,  to  be  able  to  read,  think, 
l)ray,  go  deep  into  things,  gather  the  glorious  riches  of 
intellectual  culture,  rise  into  the  empyrean  of  abstract 
truth,  write  thoughtful  and  careful  sermons,  grasp  at  the 
great  principles  of  wise  statesmanship,  master  all  the  his- 
torical details  necessary  as  data  for  future  reference,  &c.,  &c, 

"  God  has  forbidden  it  in  His  providence.  I  must  spend 
hours  in  receiving  people  (not  of  my  congregation)  who  wish 
to  speak  to  me  about  all  sorts  of  trifles ;  to  reply  to  letters 
about  nothing;  to  engage  on  public  work  on  everything;  to 
Avaste  my  life  on  what  seems  uncongenial,  vanishing,  tem- 
porary, waste.  Yet  God  knows  me  better  than  I  know 
myself  He  knows  my  gifts  and  powers,  my  failings,  and 
my  weaknesses,  what  I  can  do  and  not  do.  So  I  desire  to 
be  led,  and  not  to  lead;  to  follow  Him  ;  and  I  am  quite  sure 
that  He  has  thus  enabled  me  to  do  a  great  deal  more,  in 
ways  which  seem  to  me  almost  a  waste  of  life,  in  advancing 
His  kingdom  than  I  could  have  done  in  any  other  way — ■ 
I  am  sure  of  that.  Litellectually  I  am  weak.  Li  scholar- 
ship nothing.  In  a  thousand  things  a  baby.  He  knows 
this,  and  so  he  has  led  me  and  greatly  blessed  me,  who  am 
nobody,  to  be  of  some  use  to  my  Church  and  fellow  men. 
How  kind,  how  good,  how  compassionate,  art  Thou.  0  God  ! 


3i8  LIFE  OF  X  OR  MAN  MACLEOD. 

"  Oh,  my  Father !  keep  me  hiimhle.  Help  me  to 
have  respect  towards  my  tt'llow-incii — lo  recognise  their 
several  gifts  as  from  Thee.  Delivt^r  me  from  the  diaboncal 
sins  of  malice,  envy,  or  jealousy,  and  give  me  hearty  joy 
in  my  brother's  good,  in  his  work,  in  his  gifts  and  talents  ; 
and  may  I  be  truly  glad  in  his  su[)eriority  to  myself,  if 
T1k)U  art  glorified  !  Root  out  all  weak  vanity,  all  devilish 
I)ride,  all  that  is  abhorrent  to  the  mind  of  Christ.  (Jod, 
hear  my  prayer  !  Grant  me  the  wondrous  joy  of  humility, 
which  is  seeing  Thee  as  All  in  All ! 

"  January  17. — That  which  does  not  commend  itself 
to  the  conscience  of  the  Church,  i.e.,  the  true  Church  of 
men  who  reverence  God,  who  seek  Him,  desire  to  do  His 
will,  and  peril  all  in  knowing  Him,  is  not  to  be  received. 
God  Himself  challenges  the  response  of  the  enlightened 
conscience — 'Judge  between  me  and  my  vineyard.' 

"  I  thank  God  that  He,  not  man's  absurd  arguments, 
can  touch  sinners  and  bring  them  to  Himself. 

"  How  often  are  men  right  in  tlie  thing,  and  wrong  in 
the  argument.  How  often  right  in  the  argument,  and 
wrong  in  the  thing !  All-merciful,  wise  God,  have  mercy 
on  us  and  teach  us  !" 

To  Rev.  W.  F.  Stevenson  : — 

February,  1870. 

"  I  returned  at  the  end  of  last  week  from  England, 
Avhere  my  wife  and  I  spent  ten  days  very  happily.  We 
visited,  with  our  kind  friends  the  Lumsdens,  Oxford, 
Kenilworth,  Stratford-on-Avon,  and,  aided  by  a  carriage 
and  two  horses,  had  a  splendid  day  with  the  hounds,  and 
follow'ed  them  from  the  meet  to  the  death.  The  clergy 
are  too  much  Jacob  all  over,  and  might  be  improved  by  a 
little  of  Esau.  What  a  fine  man  could  be  made  out  of 
them  both — better  than  either  ! 

"  I  have  too  much  on  hand.  I  begin  another  new  church 
for  my  poor  people.  But  I  am  now  as  firmly  convinced  as 
Miiller  or  you  are,  that  Avhatever  work  God  givers  us  to 
do  will  be  done  and  finished,  if  done  to  Him  and  by 
Him  !  So  I  shall  build  my  church — get  £10,000  for  my 
Retiring   Fund,    establish   my  Aborigines    Mission,  get  tit 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.         ug 

men   and  money  for  home  and   abroad,  and  also  become 
myself  a  l:)etter  man — thongli  last  not  least  ! 

"  I  wish  I  had  a  long  talk  with  you  on  public  affairs. 
All  is  preparing,  by  bad  as  well  as  good,  for  the  coming  of 
Christ  in  us — to  reign  on  earth." 

He  resumed  once  more  the  fatiguing  labour  of 
addressing  Presbyteries  and  public  meetings  in  dif- 
ferent parts  of  the  country  on  behalf  of  the  India 
Mission ;  and  while  he  was  grateful  for  the  personal 
kindness  he  always  experienced  and  the  expressions 
of  increased  interest  on  the  part  of  clergy  and  laity 
with  which  these  meetings  were  generally  concluded, 
he  had  yet  to  deplore  the  absence  of  permanent 
results.  The  movement  which  was  inaugurated,  the 
resolutions  that  w^ere  heartily  carried  where  he  was 
present,  were  too  frequently  forgotten  a  few  weeks 
afterwards.  He  was  also  not  a  little  annoyed  by 
the  readiness  with  which  many  excellent  ministers 
assumed  an  attitude  of  suspicion  towards  the  Mission, 
^.est  it  should  be  conducted  on  too  '  broad '  principles. 


"  This  India  Mission,"  he  Avrites,  "  our  only  mission  to 
the  heathen,  is  on  its  trial.  The  deputation  to  India  was 
but  a  prelude  to  the  more  difficult  work  of  seeking  to  give 
life  to  this  great,  stolid,  dull  mass  of  clergy  and  people." 

"  I  solemnly  declare,"  he  writes  again  to  a  respected 
brother  clergyman  who  was  standing  aloof,  "  that  except  I 
am  better  supported  by  the  clergy  I  will  give  it  up.  I  have 
neither  time  nor  heart  for  it.  Last  night,  lame  with  gout, 
I  addressed  two  thousand  five  hundred  people  in  Perth. 
I  have  now  been  for  four  hours  doing  nothing  but  writing 
letters  connected  with  another  meeting — and  this  is  but 
a  drop  in  my  bucket — and  in  the  midst  of  this  constant 
worry  of  mind  to  have  cold  water  or  lukewarm  water  thrown 
over  me !    The  fire  burns  in  my  bones  for  a  mission  and  a 


320  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Church  at  tlie  point  of  perishing.  In  God's  name  I  will 
fiffht  my  gun  till  I  die — but  you  must  come  into  the 
battery." 

From  his  Jouknal  :— 

"  Our  India  mission  has  never  been  so  strong  in  point 
of  agency  since  '43.  But  will  the  Church  respond  ?  The 
Lord  knows  !  My  terror  is  that  she  will  not ;  and  then 
God  will  in  judgment  take  aAvay  that  which  has  been 
given  !  How  fearful !  God's  ministers  to  be  the  obstruc- 
tions to  missions !  God's  ministers  to  be  the  last !  '  Then 
Cometh  the  end  ! ' 

"  Mny  the  Lord  avert  it !  It  is  almost  inconceivable 
into  what  a  hard,  formal  state,  even  ministers  may  come  ! 
A  sort  of  Protestant  Pugi  ;  *  a  Eomanism  of  mere 
*  sound  words  ' —  forms  ;  no  life,  no  longing  or  yearn- 
ing to  win  souls  to  Christ ;  no  faith,  but  a  conceited 
])hilosophism,  a  'pu'ppyis'm  of  would-be  philosophical  or 
evangelical  cant,  or  an  unbelief,  whose  one  end  is  cultivat- 
ing popularity  with  farmers  and  parishioners. 

"  As  to  farmers,  I  was  visiting  to-day  a  working  man's 
family  from  the  country.  What  an  account  they  gave  me 
of  the  family  life  so  often  found  in  our  Scotch  fiirms  !  The 
inditi'eronce  of  the  masters,  the  consequent  ignorance, 
brutality,  and  moral  filth  of  the  servants — the  atrocious 
selfishness  of  the  whole  thing  !  I  have  the  poorest  possible 
opinion  of  the  morality,  the  common  decency  that  is  too 
frequently  observed  on    the  farms  of  Scotland.      As  Dr. 

Chalmers  said  of  so   I  may  say  of  a  mass  of  our 

agriculturists — they  are  a  set  of  'galvanised  Divots.' f 

" .  .  .■  There  is  a  great  talk  about  education.  Well, 
I  would  prefer  what  is  foolishly  called  '  secular  educa- 
tion '  (as  if  all  truth  was  not  from  God,  and  therefore 
according  to  His  will)  to  none.  But  why  not  religious 
instruction,  if  '  religious  education '  is  too  glorious  a  thing 
to  aspire  after  ?  Surely  the  facts  of  the  Bible,  what  it 
records  and  says  (whatever  value  individuals  may  attach 

*  *  Pugi '  is  the  Indian  name  for  ritual. 

t    '  Divot '  is  an  expressive  Scutch  word  for  a  turi' — sod. 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  321 

to  them),  shoukl  be  given  to  our  children  ?  I  think  that 
the  fcicts  of  Mohanmiedanism  and  even  Brahmin  ism,  as 
well  as  those  of  Greek  and  Roman  mythology,  should  be 
given  to  the  citizens  of  a  g-reat  nation  which  rides  millions 
believing  in  both.  How  much  more  the  facts  of  the  Bible  ! 
As  for  the  Shorter  Catechism,  I  would  nut  wish  it  taught  in 
schools,  or  any  catechism  or  abstract  dogmatic  teaching. 
Give  me  the  alleged  facts  !  I  shall  then  have  tiie  skeletons 
which  I  can  through  the  Spirit  quicRen  into  a  great  army  ! 

"  The  ignorance  of  some  critics  on  Scripture  is  worider- 
fnl  !  There  is  just  as  much  bigotry,  narrowness,  and 
fanaticism  in  sceptics  as  in  Christians.  I  have  often 
marvelled  at  the  ignorance  of  writers  against  the  Bible  in 
reufard  to  facts,  or  as  to  wliat  enlijjhtened  theolot^ians  have 
written. 

"  I  don't  believe  one  fad  narrated  in  Scripture  will  be 
found,  in  the  end,  adverse  to,  but  in  profound  harmony 
with  science,  reason,  conscience,  history,  antl  common  sense. 

"  Narrow-minded  theologians  have  been  the  greatest 
enemies  to  the  gospel.  They  are  sincere,  pious,  devoted, 
but  often  conceited,  self-willed,  and  io^norant,  makino'  their 
shibboleths  inspiration.  Pious  women,  good  souls,  have 
also  played  into  the  hands  of  infidels,  and  done  them  much 
service. 

"  lo-norant  missionaries  of  the  revival  and  extreme  Cal- 

o 

vinistic  school  have  been  great  barriers  in  the  way  of  the 
gospel  in  India. 

"  Why  is  it  that  '  liberal '  Churchmen  don't  work  ? 
Why  don't  they  take  up  missions,  tract  and  other 
societies  ?  They  leave  these  to  many  old  wives.  The  good 
and  wise  men  among  the  'Evangelicals'  would  be  thankful 
for  their  aid." 

"March  11th. — I  have  been  astounded  by  a  most  in- 
fluential member  of  the  Church  saying  to  me,  '  What  is  it 
to  me  whether  Christ  worked  miracles  or  rose  from  the 
dead  !  We  have  o^ot  the  rio^ht  idea  of  God  throuG:h  Him. 
It  is  enough,  that  can  never  perish  !'  And  this  truth  is 
like  a  flower  which  has  grown  from  a  dunghill  of  lies  and 
myths  !  Good  Lord,  deliver  me  from  such  conclusions  ! 
If  the  battle  has  come,  let  it  ;  but  before  God  I  will  fight 

VOL.   II.  Y 


322  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

it  with  those  only,  be  they  few  or  many,  who  beUeve  in^ 
risen,  Hving  Saviour. 

"  This  revelation  of  the  influence  of  surface  criticism  has 
thrown  me  back  immensely  upon  all  who  hold  fast  by  an 
objective  revelation.  Nothing  can  possibly  move  me  from 
Jesus  Christ  the  living  Saviour,  the  Divine  Saviour,  the 
Atoning  Saviour,  whatever  be  the  philosophy  of  that  atone- 
ment. I  fear,  yet  fear  not,  a  gn^at  battle  with  all  forms  of 
Antichrist." 

"April  G. — If  the  Church  of  Scotland  will  relax  her 
formula,  improve  her  worship,  by  using  a  liturgy  as  well  as 
extempore  prayer,  prescribe  a  regular  course  of  Scripture 
lessons  for  reading  in  Church,  have  good  music  and  organs 
if  need  be,  no  patronage,  a  more  careful  superintendence 
of  men,  as  was  done  by  the  old  superintendents,  estal)lish 
a  Central  Sustentation  Fund  to  support  and  stimulate 
Home  Mission  Avork — then  we  may  be  stronger  than  ever. 
We  must  be  the  Church  of  evangelical  freedom  and 
progress. 

'«....  If  the  sorrows  of  Christ  were  the  necessary 
result  of  His  relationship  to  God  and  man,  must  they  not 
continue?  Why  not,  but  in  a  form  consistent  with  and 
modified  by  His  present  glorified  and  triumjihant  state  ? 

"  Our  heaven  is  not  a  selfish  one.  It  is  sympathy  with 
Christ.  A  part  of  its  glory  may  be  noble  suffering  such 
as  a  wise  and  good  man  would  prefer  inconceivably  to  the 
spiritual  self-indulgence  of  golden  harps  and  enjoyment. 

"  Then  cometh  the  end  !  When  ?  But  until  then — 
what  ?  What  of  the  wicked  ?  What  of  their  education 
beyond  the  grave  ?  What  of  the  mission  of  the  Church 
to  them  ?  May  not  our  Foreign  Mission  last  in  the  next 
world  ?  What  if  tremendous  self-sacrifice  will  be  demanded 
of  the  Church  to  save  the  wickcnl,  in  every  case  where  that 
is  morally  possible,  and  the  death  of  Christ  for  sinners 
be  repeated  in  principle  ? 

"  0  blessed  God  !  How  beautiful  is  that  blue  sky  seen 
through  my  small  study  window  !  What  glory  in  Thy 
clouds  ?  AVhat  calm  and  peace  above  this  world  of  battle 
and  of  blood  ! 

"  We  are  made  for  society.     God   has  implanted   the 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  323 

social    instinct   in    us,    but   the   only   bond   of  society   is 
nuscllishness." 

Ffom  SiK  Aktiiur  Helps  :— 

Cou.vciL  Office,  1870. 

"  You  are  a  very  foolish  man  in  one  thing  ;  and,  as  a 
sincere  friend,  it  is  my  duty  to  tell  you  so.  I  have  noticed 
this  error  in  you  more  than  once.  You  are  by  nature,  and 
you  cannot  help  yourself,  however  much  you  may  try  to 
fork  Mrs.  Nature  out,  an  eloquent  man  in  talk  as  in 
speaking. 

"  The  good  talk  of  others  excites  you,  and  you  heartily 
respond  to  it. 

"  People  never  like  you  better  than  when  you  do  so 
respond.  And  then,  afterwards,  you  have  qualms  of  con- 
science and  worry  yourself  by  saying,  '  Was  I  not  too  tem- 
pestuous ? ' 

"  No,  you  Avere  not ;  you  were  never  more  agreeable. 
I  must,  as  a  true  friend,  drive  this  silly  notion  out  of  your 
head. 

"  For  example,  the  other  day  that  clever  Saturday  re- 
viewer who  sat  next  to  me  was  your  most  dire  opponent. 
He  fired  arrows  into  you,  sharp  arrows.  You  went  on, 
never  minding.  With  the  arrows  sticking  in  your  breast, 
you  went  on  thundering  at  him,  and  being  perfectly  un- 
conscious of  the  adherent  shafts. 

"  Now  that  reviewer  went  away  with  me,  and  he  ex- 
pressed the  most  affectionate  admiration  for  you. 

"  I  declare  to  you,  that  vehement  as  you  arc  (and  I  love 
your  vehemence),  I  never  heard  you  say  a  discourteous 
thing  to  your  opponent  whether  he  were  present  or  absent, 
and  the  latter  is  by  far  the  greater  merit. 

"  Never  again  talk  to  me  about  repentance  in  this  matter. 
Sometimes  I  think  you  are  too  merciful  to  your  opponents." 

To  Principal  Shaibp  : — 

April  Tdrd,  1870. 

"  Matthew  Arnold  is  good,  but  I  do  not  think  that  the 
inspiration,  in  any  honest  sense,  of  the  A2:)0stles  is  to  be 
set  aside  and  their  testimony  as  to  fact  and  dograa  to  be 

Y  2 


324  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

criticised  as  one  would  a  lecture  of  Jowett's  or  a  volume  of 
Kenan.  He  jumps  also  too  rapidly  from  the  position  of 
not  seeing  a  statement  as  true  to  that  of  rejecting  it  as  if 
Tintrue,  rather  than  to  wait  for  light.  I  see  also  a  ten- 
dency to  deal  with  a  spiritual  machiner}'  of  motive,  law, 
conscience,  will,  to  the  exclusion  of  a  living  personal  God, 
just  as  men  are  doing  with  machiner}'^  of  law  in  the  natural 
world.  But  I  did  not  mean  to  write  an  article.  I  helieve 
the  Bihle  from  Genesis  to  Kevelation  will  be  recognised 
more  and  more  as  a  revelation  chosen  and  approved  of  by 
God,  as  the  best  possible,  just  as  true  science  increases  in 
breadth,  unity,  and  depth.  I  despise  and  abhor  that  self- 
indulgence  of  whim,  and  measuring  everything  by  the 
agreeable.  I'd  rather  sweep  chimneys  and  be  a  man,  than 
a  king  and  be  a  sj)oon." 

To  Mrs.  Macleoij  : — 

Balmoral,  May,  IS'iO. 

"  Yesterday  was  a  day  of  battle  and  of  trium})h  and  no 
mistake  for  my  friends  the  evil  '  speerits.'  Through  the 
ignorance  of  that  wretched  '  Boots '  I  was  kej)t  hanging 
about  the  Perth  platform  from  12  noon-day,  till  11.45  p.m. 
Think  of  it  if  you  can,  sleeping,  walking,  yawning,  smok- 
ing, groaning,  smiling  and  abusing  !  A  train  leaves  Aber- 
deen at  3  A.M.  Avhile  the  Queen  is  here.  I  got  it.  Mes- 
senger's carriage  full,  of  course.  Had  to  hire  another. 
Arrived  here  at  6  A.M.  Have  slept  since,  and  breakfasted 
in  my  own  room.  Seen  no  one.  Tired,  but  have  been 
worse. 

"  On  opening  7ny  bag  found  hair-brushes  and  comb  left 
behind!     Of  course.      Oh  these  wee  deevils!" 

To  Eev.  A.  Clerk,  LL.D.  : — 

"  That  early  school  of  Campbeltown — boys  first  and 
lads  afterwards- —up  to  college  days  has  had  a  deep  effect 
on  me.  I  an)  amazed  as  I  think  of  the  reckless  and 
affectionate  abandon  with  which  I  threw  myself  into  it  ! 
My  slap-dash  manner  and  words  are  its  result,  and  will 
stick  to  me  more  or  less  all  my  life." 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  325 

To  tlie  Same,  on  the  death  of  a  very  dear  son  : — 

Glasgow,  1870. 
".  .  .  .  I  trust  you  and  Jessie  realise  the  truth  oi 
Adie's  life  and  love  to  you  all.  He  is  not  unless  he  re- 
members, and  as  he  does  he  loves.  I  always  think  of  him 
as  received  by  his  numerous  relations,  grandfathers  and 
grandmothers,  aunts  and  uncles,  and  his  little  brother 
grown  up  and  feeling  so  thoroughly  at  home,  and  re- 
joicing in  life  and  in  hope,  and  sustained  by  a  great  faith 
in  the  hope  of  meeting  you  all,  and  in  you  all  pleasing 
God  on  earth  as  the  highest  of  all.  I  preached  lately 
on  death  in  the  light  of  Christ  coming  for.  us  and 
taking  us  to  Himself,  and  on  heaven  as  a  place  pre- 
pared for  us,  i.e.  adapted  in  every  detail  to  the  feelings, 
associations,  &c.,  of  human  beings,  young  and  old,  culti- 
vated and  ignorant.  All  this  is  necessarily  bound  up  with 
the  fact  that  He  who  was  a  child,  as  well  as  a  man,  Avho 
lived  among  and  loved  such  persons  as  ourselves,  must 
build,  furnish  and  adorn  the  house  in  a  way  suitable  to 
all  the  members  of  His  own  family — the  dear  bairns  most 
of  all,  for  them  He  took  to  his  own  heart." 

His  summer  quarters  were  fixed  for  this  season  at 
Java  Lodge,  in  the  island  of  Mull,  not  far  irom  the 
celebrated  ruins  of  Duart  Castle.  The  view  from 
the  coast  was  superb,  including,  what  was  to  him 
of  unfading  interest — the  hills  of  Morven  and 
distant  Fiunary,  the  scene  of  his  earliest  and  happiest 
associations. 

From  his  JouKNAL  : — 

Java  Lodge,  Juhj  17,  1870. 

"  The  Assembly — for  I  must  go  back  in  m.y  brief  record 
of  events — passed  off  well.  Its  characteristic  was  its  treat- 
ment of  questions  chiefly  bearing  on  the  practical  life  of 
the  Church.  The  Patronage  question,  though  carried  by 
a  large  majority,  did  not  excite  much  enthusiasm  ;  first, 
because  there  was  no  great  hope  of  Government  taking  ii 


326  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

up  unless  II  strong  politicil  pressure  \v;is  brought  to  beai 
U[)OM  it — this  was  not  likely  fntm  the  iutluence  ot"  political 
Dissenters  ou  the  elections  in  Scotland  ; — and,  secondly, 
should  it  be  carried,  we  felt  no  great  security  lor  better 
niinisters  being  appointed  than  now,  when  the  peo[)le  have 
it  [)ractically  all  their  own  way,  checked  by  Patronage.  But 
the  resolution  of  the  Assembly  put  us  in  a  better  position 
Avilh  the  country.  Dr.  Cook,  almost  the  only  statesman 
we  have,  acted  a  very  unselfish  and  patriotic  part,  seeking 
the  good  of  the  Chiu-ch,  and  not  a  party  triumph. 

"  I  sjjoke  on  Patronage,  Christian  Life,  Home  ^lissions, 
and  India.  I  j^ublished  my  sermon  given  at  the  opening 
of  the  Assembly.     But  how  can  I  |)ul)lish  as  I  preach  ! 

"  I  have  this  moment  heard  tliat  France  has  declared 
war  against  Prussia.  It  is  awful  to  think  of  the  thousands 
who  are  on  this  quiet  Sunday,  here  all  peace,  marching  to 
wounds  and  death.  The  Lord  Jesus  is  over  all  !  This  is 
an  end  of  the  Napoleon  dynasty,  and  an  end  of  Rome  for 
the  Pope  !     So  much  for  the  dogma  of  the  Infallibility. 

"The  Emperor  is  mad!  He  njnst  fail.  I  argue  that 
the  French  dare  not  cross  the  Rhine  at  Strasburg,  as  the 
Prussians  will  advance  from  Coblent/C  and  Maintz — these 
l)eing  magniticent  bases  of  operation — and  they  will  thus 
outilank  the  French,  and  compel  them  to  keep  to  Metz  as 
their  centre.      They  are  outnumbered,  and  must  fail. 

''August  10. — Victory,  victory  for  Prussia  !  (Woerfh.) 
We  shall  have  the  grand  battle  east  of  Metz.  If  the 
French  gain,  by  dividing  the  Prussiaiis,  what  then  ?  It 
Avould  be  but  momentary.  To  cross  the  Rhine  is  not 
impossible.  But  the  French  are  outnumbered,  and  will 
receive  a  terrible  smash !  They  will  fall  back  on  Paris, 
Paris  will  revolt.  Napoleon  wiU  abdicate,  and  in  three 
weeks  be,  with  his  family,  in  Lomlon.  There  will  be  a 
Provisional  Government.  All  will  be  confusion.  The 
Lord  reic^ns  ! " 

"Sunday,  27th. — What  a  glorious  day!  I  preached  on 
Missions.  These  days  of  preaching  make  the  little  High- 
land churches  the  monuments  to  me  of  the  most  happy 
days  of  my  sojourn.  Never  did  the  landscape  appear  more 
magniticent ;  the  shade  vvs  and  lights  up<.»n  the  hills  were 


MODERATORSHIP  AND   PATRONAGE.  327. 

unearthly.  Shien,  in  glory,  a  rainbow  rose — for  there  was 
n(j  arch — up  from  the  Buachaill  Etive,  and  was  such  as  the 
Shekinah  may  have  appeared  to  the  tribes  who  from  afar 
looked  on  the  encampment  of  Israel.  The  sea  cris]j  with 
sparkling  waves  ;  the  sky  intensely  blue,  in  great  spaces 
between  huge  masses  of  cumuli  clouds,  with  some  more 
sombre  ;  the  distant  hills  were  near  and  clear,  as  if  seen 
through  crystalline  air ;  and  then,  the  lights  upon  them  ! 
l)right  rays  lighting  up,  below,  yellow  cornfields,  and  green 
jjastures  ten  miles  off,  and  above,  sometimes  a  bare  scuiv 
or  deej)  corrie,  or  broad  green  hill-back,  with  heavy  dark 
shadows  slowly  pursuing  the  sunlight  over  hill  and  dale. 
I  beheld  Morven  along  with  Aunt  Jane.  We  qazed  to2:ether 
on  the  distant  church,  beside  which  as  holy  a  family  lie 
interred  as  I  have  ever  known.  I  saw  the  trees  which 
mark  Samuel  Cameron's  house,  where  I  spent  such  happy 
years,  and  received  an  education,  the  education  of  my 
beloved  ones  in  Fiunary  included,  such  as  has  moulded 
my  whole  life.  I  enjoyed  one  of  those  seasons  of  intense 
and  rare  blessing  when  tears  come  we  cannot  tell  why, 
except  from  a  joy  that  rises  in  silent  prayer  and  praise  to 
the  Creator  and  Redeemer. 

"Dear  Dr.  Craik  is  dead,  and  his  funeral  sermon  has 
this  day  been  preached.  His  illness  and  death — how  real 
have  both  been  to  me  !  He  was  a  good  man,  a  great 
strength  to  the  Church,  and  a  most  sincere  friend,  and  I 
mourn  his  loss. 

"  Blessed  be  God  for  the  gathering  in  and  eternal  union 
of  His  peoj^le.  Our  friends  in  heaven  remain  the  same 
persons,  with  all  their  sinless  peculiarities.  They  therefore 
remember  us,  and  love  us  more  than  ever.  Are  they  in- 
terested in  us  !  perhaps  concerned  about  us  ?  Why  not ! 
The  joy  of  the  redeemed  is  not  a  selfish  joy.  I  would 
despise  the  saint  who  enjoyed  himself  in  a  glorious 
mansion  singing  psalms,  and  who  did  not  wish  his  joy 
disturbed  by  sharing  Christ's  noble  and  grand  care  about 
the  world.  So  long  as  man,  and  my  dear  ones  are 
in  'the  current  of  the  heady  fight,'  I  don't  wish  to  be 
ignorant  of  them  on  the  ground  that  it  would  give  me 
pain  and  mar  my  joy  !     I  prefer  any  pain  to  such  joy  !     I 


32  8  Z IFE  OF  NORMA  N  MA  CI.  EOD. 

cannot  tliink  it  possible  tliat  my  heaven  tliero  sliall  be 
ditii'ivnt  from  niy  heaven  here,  wliich  consists  in  sympathy 
with  L'lirist.  If  He  has  a  noble  anxiety,  limited  by  ))erfect 
faith,  in  what  is  going  on  upon  earth ;  if  human  sin  is  areality 
to  ?Hm  ;  if  His  life  there  as  well  as  here  is  by  faith  in  the 
Father  ;  if  he  watches  for  the  end,  and  feels  human  sin  and 
sorrow,  and  rejoices  in  the  good,  and  feels  the  awfulness  of 
the  wrong,  yet  ever  has  deep  peace  in  God  ;  why  should  not 
His  people  have  the  joy  of  sharing  this  Godlike  burthen 
of  struggling  humanity  ?  '  Then  cometh  the  end.'  But  the 
end  is  not  yet.  The  final  day  of  judgment  may  be  millions 
of  years  hence.  Until  then  the  whole  Church  may  have 
its  education  of  labour  and  teaching  continued  in  mighty 
ventures  of  self-sacrifice,  and  in  ten  thousand  Avays  put  to 
the  proof,  in  order  to  improve  those  talents  of  faith, 
self-denial,  hope,  acquired  on  earth.  This  might  imply 
suft(M-ing  ;  why  not  ?  Many  picture  a  heaven  which  is 
a  reflection  of  their  own  selfish  nature.  '  Don't  trouble  us; ' 
'  Tell  us  no  bad  news  ; '  '  We  are  saved,  let  others  drown;' 
*  What  is  the  earth  to  us  ?  '  '  It  is  past  ;  give  us  fine 
music,  fine  scenery,  and  let  the  earth — shall  I  write  it  ? — 
go  to  the  devil ! '  That  is  not  my  heaven !  I  wish  to 
know,  I  wish  to  feel,  I  Avisli  to  share  Ghrist's  symjxathies, 
until  the  end  comes. 

"  The  idea  that  Dr.  Craik  no  longer  cares  about 
Missions  to  India,  would  give  me  a  poor  idea  of  a  heaven 
of  sympathy  with  Jesus  Christ." 


To  Mrs.  Dkummond,  Megginch  Castle  : — 

Isle  of  Mull,  Tith  August,  1870. 
"  I  am  in  retreat,  banished  to  a  spot  beyond  space, 
and  where  time  merges  into  eternity.  Posts  are  rare. 
Their  news  is  jiost  viortem  —  dead  —  belonging  to  a 
past  world  history  !  Your  kind  note  arrived  here  long 
after  Dean  Stanley  had  become  Archbishop,  and  tlie 
Established  Church  destroyed.  To  have  met  him  in  your 
house  would  have  been  a  true  di'light  to  me,  but  I  was 
and  am  still  in  Mull,  and  where  Mull  is,  no  one  knows 
except  Sir  Roderick  Murchison,  who  knows  everything,  am 


rsj 

1 


MODERATORSHIP  AND  PATRONAGE.  320 

he  only  guesses  about  it ;  so  I  can  only  express  my  great 
reo-ret  at  having  been  so  far  away,  and  thus  deprived  of 
such  good  company.  There  was  a  foolish  report  s[)read  here 
this  morning  by  a  chance  whaler,  that  a  war  had  broken 
out  in  Europe,  that  the  French  had  taken  lierlin,  and, 
after  landing  at  Aberdeen,  were  marching  on  Glasgow.  If 
this  is  true  I  won't  leave  Mull  until  peace  is  proclaimed  ; 
but,  if  the  news  proves  a  canard,  as  I  think  quite  possible, 
I  shall  return  this  week  to  Glasgow,  which  I  hope  to 
reach  six  weeks  after  the  world,  according  to  John  Cum- 
minsf,  is  consumed  !  " 

To  the  Eev.  Thomas  Young  : — 

Augmt,  1870. 

"As  to  sudden  death  I  never  could  pray  to  be  dehvered 
from  it,  but  only  to  be  ready  for  it.  God  alone  who  knows 
our  frame  and  temperament,  knows  by  what  death  we  can 
best  glorify  Him,  Sudden  death  may  to  many  be  a  great 
mercy." 

To  A.  Strahau-,  Esq. : — 

Java  Lodge,  August,  1870. 

"  What  an  evening  of  glory  !  The  lights,  the  hills,  the 
castled  promontory  are  as  of  old,  and  years  too  have  fled, 
and  Ossian  is  old  also, 

"  What  a  dinner  awaited  you !     Flags  flying,  chickens 

delicate  as  sonnets  of  Miss ,  vegetables  as  many  as  the 

articles  on  ,  and  far  more  digestible.      Champagne 

with  a  brilliancy  and  bouquet  that  rivalled  the  papers  of  the 

editor,  rice   pudding  as   pure  and  wholesome  as  's 

sermons.  While  every  hill 
looked  down,  and  every  coney 
opened  its  eyes,  and  the  fish 
swam  and  the  ocean  mur- 
mured, and  the  red  deer  got 
white,  all  with  excitement 
to  see — ^what  ?  Your  arrival 
that  arrived  not.  Oil,  it  was 
sad,  sad  ! " 


330  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  Journal  : — 

"  War !  How  strange  that  war  lias  formed  the  subject  ol 
our  oldest  poems,  paintings,  and  histories,  that  it  is  at  this 
moment  as  terrible  as  ever  !  What  does  it  mean  ?  How 
can  we  account  for  its  existence,  its  apparent  necessity  in 
the  kingdom  of  God  ?  It  does  not  imply  any  persunal 
liate  whatever,  no  more  than  the  execution  of  a  mal<^- 
factor  does  cruelty  and  love  of  l)lood.  The  bravest  soldier 
is  associated  with  the  gentleman,  and  highest  chivalry. 
It  seems  to  me  that  lawful  war,  as  distinct  from  war  of 
passion,  originates  in  what  appears  to  be  a  social  law. 
That  as  God  wishes  mankind  to  be  divided  into  nations 
smaller  or  "•reater,  and  as  no  nation  ought  to  exist  in 
which  there  is  not  government,  and  as  government  implies 
power  to  protect  life  and  pro[)erty  and  enforce  its  laws,  so 
must  the  more  powerful  govern  for  the  greatest  good  of 
the  greatest  number.  Who  the  most  powerful  are  cian  be 
determined  only  by  war,  unless  the  Aveak  give  in.  It  is 
by  this  law  of  the  weak  giving  way  to  the  strong,  by  this 
sifting  process  of  war,  that  our  clans  have  been  absorbed 
into  a  small  nation,  and  small  nations  into  a  great  one, 
strong  enough  to  hold  its  own.  Any  race,  or  any  people 
have,  therefore,  a  perfect  abstract  right  to  assert  its  superi- 
ority or  iudopendence  if  it  is  superior ;  but  war  alone 
can  determine  that,  if  the  fact  is  disputed.  In  the  long- 
run,  as  a  rule,  each  successive  great  advance  in  the  world's 
civilization  and  progress  has  been  the  result  of  war. 
Battles  are  great  sacrifices  preceding  resurrections.  What 
man  designs  is  one  thing,  and  what  God  brings  to  pass  is 
another.  This  great  war  is  really  to  determine  not  whether 
Louis  Napoleon  is  to  be  Emperor,  but  whether  the  Latin 
or  Teutonic  race  is  to  be  strongest  in  Europe  and  the 
Avorld  ! 

"  As  to  '  the  inventions  for  murdering  people' — this  is  all 
nonsense.  Every  contribution  made  by  science  to  improve 
instruments  of  war  makes  war  shorter,  and  in  the  end  les? 
terrible  to  human  life,  and  human  progress.  Never  was 
the  amelioratinc:  influences  of  education  and  (Christian 
benevolence  more  visible  than  in  this  war.  The  more 
that  kingdoms  are  much   about    the   .same    strengtli,   'ilio 


MODERATORSUIP  AND  PATRONAGE. 


331 


less  lilvcly  is  war.  And,  by  the  way,  it  is  an  indc^x  of  a 
time  when  one  state  will  respect  its  neighhour,  tliat  the 
tendency  of  all  improvements  in  guns,  tKic,  is  to  make 
defence  in  an  increasing  ratio  more  powerful  tlian  attack. 
But  the  ultimate  defence  must  be  in  nuui,  for  nations  are 
really  strong  not  in  machinery  but  in  man.  Thcii-  man- 
hood must  alone  or  chiefly  determine  their  freedom  and 
independence. 

"  '  Peace  at  any  price '  is  but  selfish  indulgence  at  any 
price.  Liberty  and  self-government  at  any  price  !  Life  is 
of  no  value  without  freedom." 


To  A.  Strahan,  Esq. : — 

"  I  so  hate  those 
eternal  love  stories,  this 
everlasting  craving  after 
a  sweetheart  !  I  wish 
they  would  marry  in  the 
first-  chapter,  and  be 
done  with  it.  Is  there 
nothingc  to  interest  human  beino's 
a    fuss    to  make  about  ,-.=->^^i=:;:x 

those     two     when     in *^^^^ 


>3e 
love  !" 


To  A.  Strahan,  Esq. : — 

"  Whatever  may  be  my  fault,  it  does  not  consist  in  my 
chariot- wheels  tarrying ;  as  the  following  statement  will 
prove  : — 

''Friday,  31si  Sej^tember. — Left  Glasgow  for  Aberdeen 
at  nine,  p.m.,  arrived  at  Aberdeen  at  three,  A.M. 

"Saturday,  1st  October. — Left  for  Balmoral.  Dined 
with  Her  Majesty. 

"  October  2. — Preached  a  sermon  on  '  War  and  God's 
Judgments,'  which  the  Queen  asks  me  to  publish,  and  to 
dedicate  to  herself,  as  soon  as  possible — not  a  line  having 
been  written. 


33^ 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


oincd  my  wife  in  Perthshiro,  dead  beat. 
Rested    my    chariot-wheels    and    greased 


"October  3.- 

"  October   4. 
them. 

"  October  5. — Returned  to  Glasgow,  and  answered  twenty 
letters ;  wrote  long  Minutes  for  Sealkote  and  Calcutta  ; 
had  prayer-meeting  in  the  evening. 

"  October  6. — Commanded  by  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and 
left  at  seven,  A.M.,  for  Dunrobin,  220  miles  off.  Dined  at 
half-past  nine,  left  the  drawing-room  at  half-past  one,  a.m., 
and  smoking-room  at  half-past  three.  Left  per  train  at 
six,  A.M.,  and  never  halted  five  minutes,  V)eing  past  time, 
until  I  reached  Glasgow  at  half-past  six  p.m. 

"  October  7. — A  weary  Saturday,  to  prepare  two  new 
sermons  for  Sunday  amidst  manifold  interruption.s. 

"  October  8. — Preached  twice.  _^ 

"  October  9. — Again  dead  beat, 
and  went  to  see  my  old  mother 
the  first  time  for  six  weeks. 

"October   10. — Returned,   and 
received   a  letter   from  a    patient   C^ 
friend,    asking,    '  Why    tarry   thy     J '  ^ 
chariot- wheels  ?'!!!! 

"  Bother  the  oliariot-wheels  ! 

"  I  am  as  nervous  as  an  old 
cat." 


t 


a 


/ 


To  A.  Strahan,  Esq. : — 

"  I  am  more  anxious  about  Good  Words  than  per- 
haps even  you  are.  It  is  one  of  my 
heaviest  hourly  worries,  how  little  I 
have  been  able  to  do  it.  As  a  public 
man  I  am  worked  from  6  a.m.  till  10  p.m., 
and  if  a  man  must  be  occui)ied  twenty- 
four  hours  in  killing  rats  or  planting 
carrots  it  is  practically  the  same  to  him, 

as    far    as   time    is    concerned,    as  if   he  were   attacking 

Paris." 


MODERATORS/IIP  AXD  PATRONAGE. 


333 


To  his  Eldest  Sox  : — 


\st  December,  1870. 


"  I  wa>  very  glad,  my  boy,  to  hear  from  you,  and  that 
you  have  told  me  so  ^vell  and  so  fully  all  you  are  about.  I 
am  quite  satistied  with  everything,  and  pray  God  tiiat  you 
may  be  able  to  form  those  habits  of  stutly  and  of  master- 
ing difficulties,  and  of  persevering  in  what  may  be  uncon- 
genial but  necessary  for  you,  all  of  which  is  of  such  im- 
portance. You  are,  in  fact,  now  moulding  your  whole  future 
life.  May  it  be  worthy  !  Never,  never  forget  your  daily 
dependence  on  God  and  His  interest  in  you.  The  Stock- 
port panic  might  have  had  a  fearful  ending,  but  it  was 
stopped  in  time — 3,000,  three  stories  up,  and  but  one 
stair  of  outlet,  with  the  panic  of  fire  !  '" 

"  I  am  giving  the  last  corrections  to  the  sermon  on  war. 
When  you  read  it,  it  will  appear  very  simple  to  you,  and 
easily  written.  But  it  may  encourage  you  to  know  that 
this  is  the  seventh  time,  at  least,  I  have  corrected  it,  and 
each  time  just  as  fully  as  the  previous  one.  So  dithcult 
do  I  find  it  to  write  with  tolerable  accuracy.  Begin 
soon  1 " 


To  Mrs.  Waeeick,  New  York. 


Glasgow,  December  15th,  1870. 


"  I  heard  all  about  your  great  sorrow,  all  those  pleas- 
ing yet  harrowing  details  which  make  one  realise  the 
whole  scene.  Such  an  affliction  is  to  us  a  profound 
mystery.      This  seems    to  me   the   lesson  taught    by  the 

*  He  refers  to  a  panic  which  took  place  ■while  he  was  preaching  at 
Stockport  on  behalf  of  bis  Sunday  School  Union,  when  his  presence  of 
mind  and  calmness  did  much  to  preserve  order. 


334  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Book  of  Job,  for  Job  never  found  out  in  this  world  why 
he  had  been  afflicted,  although  he  knew  that  it  was  not 
because  of  his  individual  sins  (and  he  was  right),  but  in 
order  to  bring  out  the  reality  of  his  life  in  God  ;  yet  he 
was  left  in  darkness,  and  although  sons  and  daughters 
w'ere  jjiven  him,  the  old  dear  ones  were  seen  no  more. 
And  there  are  like  times  of  darkness  in  which  the  soi-vant 
of  the  Lord  can  see  no  light,  but  must  be  cast  on  the  bare 
arm  of  God  for  strength,  and  on  the  heart  of  God  for 
peace.  Yet  we  can  never  be  in  such  pitch  darkness  as 
Job  was,  now  that  we  see  God's  own  beloved  Son  as 
the  man  of  sorrows ;  and  in  Him  have  the  assurance 
Sfiven  us  of  a  Father  Who  will  ever  act  as  a  Father  even  in 
sending  grief.  Who  never  acts  arbitrarily,  but  Who  appeals 
to  the  heart  of  the  most  tender  and  loving  parent  to  judge 
from  his  own  truest  affection  towards  his  children,  as  to 
what  He,  Who  is  perfect  love,  feels  towards  themselves. 
Faith  in  this  God  is  our  only  refuge  and  strength  in  times 
of  dark  and  mysterious  sorrow. 

"  I  am  utterly  powerless  to  help at  Chicago.      I 

never  directly  or  indirectly  asked  a  favour  small  or  great 
from  court  or  government,  and  never  will.  I  am  tongue- 
tied  and  hand-tied ;  having  so  much  intercourse  with 
both,  this  seems  strange,  but  it  is  a  fact." 


CnArXEE   XXITI. 

1871—72. 

rilHE  last  years  of  his  life  were  marked  by  the 
-*-  manner  in  which  both  his  character  and  convic- 
tions ripened.  There  was  no  diminution  of  the  wealth 
of  his  humour,  and  his  enjoyment  of  outward  things 
was  keen  and  fresh,  though  tinged  with  a  certain 
pensive  and  recurrent  sadness.  But  as  his  health 
became  more  broken,  the  sense  of  approaching  age, 
the  brevity  of  the  time  given  him  to  work  seemed 
continually  present,  and  lent  an  increased  earnest- 
ness and  thoughtful  care  to  the  fulfilment  of  the  most 
commonplace  duty.  He  spoke  and  acted  as  one  who 
knew  '  the  time  was  short.' 

His  health  was  gradually  but  decidedly  becoming 
infirm.  In  the  spring  of  1871  he  had  so  severe  an 
attack  of  his  old  enemy  that  he  was  for  some  time 
confined  to  bed,  and  his  strength  was  so  much  impaired 
that  his  brother.  Professor  Macleod,  forbade  his  under- 
taking any  engagements  which  implied  fatigue.  At 
the  end  of  April,  on  Sir  William  Jenner's  advice,  he 
went  to  Ems,  and  for  a  time  found  much  benefit  from 
rest  and  from  the  waters  of  the  famous  Briinnen.  In 
summer    he  and  his    family  spent   their   holiday  at 


336  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Geddos,  the  early  home  of  Mrs.  Macleod,  and  doubly 
precious  to  him  as  associated  with  many  memories 
of  John  ^Mackintosh.  It  was  a  happy  time,  and  he 
regained  so  much  of  his  old  health  and  spirits,  that 
on  the  return  of  the  family  to  Glasgow  he  was  able 
to  enter  with  considerable  vigour  on  his  winter's 
work. 

There  were  some  things  which  specially  coloured 
his  later  thoughts.  lie  was  deeply  moved  by  the 
condition  of  religious  belief  in  academic  and  literary 
circles.  As  he  had  opportunities  possessed  by  few 
clergymen,  of  becoming  acquainted  \\'\\\\  current 
opinion,  not  merely  from  books,  but  by  intercourse 
with  representative  men,  his  interest  in  the  reli- 
gious difficulties  of  many  scholars  and  thinkers  Avas 
proportionately  keen.  His  anxieties  regarding  such 
matters  frequently  found  vent  in  lamentations  over 
the  ignorance  or  indifference  of  ecclesiastics  in  Scot 
land  as  to  all  questions  except  the  most  trivial. 
*  They  are  squabbling  about  the  United  Presbyterian, 
Free  Church,  or  Established,  when  the  world  is  asking 
whether  Christ  is  risen  from  the  dead  ! ' 

India  and  the  condition  of  the  heathen  were  sub- 
jects which  he  was  never  weary  of  pondering  by  him- 
self, or  of  discussing  with  his  friends.  The  impression 
his  Eastern  journey  had  made  on  him  was  profound, 
and  showed  itself  latterly  in  an  incessant  stud)"  of  the 
problems  which  the  spectacle  of  so  many  millions  of 
brothers  and  sisters  living  in  heathendom  suggested. 
He  had  not  looked  on  these  millions  with  the  eye  of  a 
dogmatist  who  measures  all  he  sees  by  the  scale  of  a 
hard,   scholastic  theory.     He   did   not   ask   liow  they 


1871 — 72-  ?37 

stood   related  to   some  theological  tenet,  but   ratter 
'What    are    these  men    and   women    to   the   living 
God  ? '      He  had  tried  to  understand  the  flesh  and 
blood  affinities,  the  prejudices,  difficulties,  aspirations 
of  the  Hindoo  mind,  and  to  comprehend  as  far  as  pos- 
sible a  humanity  which  had  grown  up  under  conditions 
so  different  from  those  which  had  moulded  his  own. 
The  effect  of  all  this  was  to  lead  him  back  to  first 
principles,  to  oblige  him  to  deal  with  the  mind  of  the 
personal   Saviour,  as  of  more  account  than  Church 
formularies.     His  theology  had  ever  been  centred  in 
the  character  of  God  as  revealed  in  Christ,  and  he 
instinctively  now  referred  every  doubtful  question  to 
this  ultimate  standard.     '  Do  you  think  it  would  be 
like  Christ  so  to  act?'   or   'From  all  you  know  of 
God,  do  you  think  it  would  be  like  Him  to  do  that  ?  ' 
— with  such  questions,  as  many  of  his  hearers  remem- 
ber, it  was  his  habit  to  clinch  many  an  argument  when 
addressing  his  congregation  in  the  Barony.     To  him 
therefore  it  was  anything  but  glad  tidings  to  preach 
to  the  educated  natives  of  Hindostan  that  all  their 
parents  and  ancestors  were  suffering  the  pains  of  hell 
because  they  had  not  believed  in  One  of  Whom  they 
had  never  heard,  or  to  declare  to  them  that  their  own 
ultimate  salvation   depended   on   their  acceptance  of 
some  theory  of  atonement  which  was  beset  with  intel- 
lectual and  moral  difficulties.     On  behalf  of  England's 
greatest  dependency,   he  longed  to   see   missionaries 
intent  upon  bringing  these  human  hearts  into  living 
contact  Avith  the  love,  the  holiness,  the  character  of 
Jesus  Christ,  and  who  would  let  the  New  Testament 
speak  its  own  language  to  their  spirits,  rather  than 

VOL.    II.  '^ 


338  LIFE  OF  NOR.lfAN  MACLEOD. 

through  the  modiiiTn  of  a  system  of  theology.  Such 
reflections  on  the  state  of  the  heathen,  inspired,  as 
they  were,  hy  love  to  man  and  firm  reliance  on  the 
righteousness  and  goodness  of  God,  opened  up  to  him 
a  new  region  of  thought  as  to  the  character  of  the 
future  state,  and  the  possibility  of  a  gospel  being 
jDreached  to  those  who,  in  this  life,  had  never  an 
opi:>ortunity  of  accepting  or  rejecting  the  truth  as  it 
is  in  Christ. 

The  following  notes  of  a  sermon  preached  in 
September,  1871,  indicate  the  tendency  of  his  views 
respecting  the  condition  of  the  heathen  beyond  the 
grave : — 

"  What  is  to  become  of  those  who  never  have  heard 
of,  or  have  never  had  ojiportimities  of  hearing  of  God, 
Father,  Son,  and  Holy  Ghost — who  have  never  heard 
of  that  truth  which  to  us  is  inseparable  from  all  our 
thoughts  of  salvation  ?  Of  these  there  are  millions  upon 
millions,  thousands  of  millions  who  have  since  creation 
lived  and  died,  and  passed  away  into  the  unseen.  There 
are  hundreds  of  millions  now  alive  in  the  same  condition 
in  the  kingdoms  of  heathendom  :  more  numerous  than  any 
human  mind  can  conceive.  In  addition  to  these,  there 
are  millions  in  Christendom  Avho,  from  the  circumstances 
of  their  birth  and  up-bringing,  are  as  practically  ignorant, 
who  never  had  the  means  of  making  any  conscious  choice 
between  the  claims  of  God  on  their  afiection  and 
obedience,  and  the  demands  of  sin  and  of  every  evil 
passion — to  whose  thoughts  it  would  make  no  practical 
difference  if  all  we  know,  love,  and  rejoice  in  regarding 
God  was  never  heard  or  known  :  no  more  than  the  ex- 
tinction of  the  sun  would  make  any  practical  ditference  to 
a  blind  man's  e^'o.  Such  a  question  is  tremendous,  j^ain- 
ful,  oppressive,  often  agonising — even  when  feebly  under- 
stood. We  are  disposed,  from  our  utter  inability  to  take 
in  its  momentous  importance,   to  make  a  positive  etVort  to 


1871 — 72-  339 

put  it  away.  Such  a  fact  as  thousands  of  milKons  of 
human  beings  existing  now,  and  existing  for  eternity,  some- 
where, makes  hardly  an  impression  upon  our  minds.  We 
fee],  in  trying  to  reahse  it,  as  if  the  finite  tried  to  compre- 
hend the  infinite,  and  so  w^e  dismiss  the  whole  question. 
But  when  the  complex  idea  is  resolved  into  its  details ; 
when  we  think  of  one  human  being,  with  all  our  own 
powers  and  capacities  for  thinking,  understanding,  remem- 
bering, anticipating,  hoping,  fearing,  rejoicing,  suffering, 
bemg  holy  as  a  saint  or  wicked  as  a  devil  ;  a  being  made 
after  God's  image,  and  therefore  so  far  di\ine  ;  an  ob- 
ject of  more  interest  and  importance  to  God  his  Maker 
than  the  material  universe  ;  and  such  a  being  growing 
up  from  infancy  with  as  distinct  and  individual  a  history 
as  ourselves,  a  being,  too,  wdio  is  for  ever  responsible,  and 
can  for  ever  please  God  and  meet  His  wishes,  or  the 
reverse — then  do  we  in  some  degree  feel  that  any  question 
affecting  him  is  not  a  question  regarding  a  mere  thing, 
however  interesting,  like  the  preservation  or  destruction  of 
a  great  picture,  a  grand  column,  or  stately  palace,  but 
regarding  a  person,  an  immortal  being,  the  noblest  speci- 
men of  the  art  of  God,  the  e'reatest  building^  of  His  hands, 
and  intended  to  be  a  temple  of  the  Holy  Ghost.  But 
much  more  does  our  interest  increase  if  we  are  personally 
acquainted  with  such  a  being  ;  if  we  have  come  into  con- 
tact with  him  so  as  to  realise  fully  our  common  humanity, 
and  to  sympathize  with  his  bodily  sufferings  or  mental 
sorrows.  Yet  what  would  our  interest  be  if  this  person 
were  a  father,  or  mother,  or  child,  or  our  individual  selves  ! 
We  could  not  then  think  of  such  an  one's  fate  for  ever,  as 
we  would  that  of  a  stone  Avhich,  cast  into  the  great  deep, 
sinks  and  passes  at  once  out  of  sight  and  out  of  memory. 
But  what  this  unit  is  to  us,  each  unit  of  the  whole  mass  of 
humanity,  from  Adam  to  the  thousands  who  have  been 
born  and  died  since  we  entered  church,  is  inconceivably 
more  to  God.  Not  one  is  lost  to  His  sight,  not  one  ever 
becomes  to  Him  of  less  importance  as  an  immortal  being ; 
and  just  as  we  realise  this,  the  question  will  press  itself 
with  increasing  force  on  us,  what  is  to  become  of  them  ? 
We  cannot  get  quit  of  it.      We  may  do  so  in  regard  to  the 

z  2 


340 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


race,  out  we  cannot  in  regard  to  those  units  of  Avliicli  the 
race  is  composed,  aud  many  a  perplexed  mind,  and  many 
a  weary,  anxious  heart  yearns  for  an  answer. 

"Many  object  to  Ijring  sucli  questions  into  the  piiljiit 
at  all.  Is  there  not,  it  is  asked,  enough  that  is  clear, 
simple,  and  of  infinite  importance,  sufficient  to  occupy  with 
profit  the  short  time  nllotted  on  the  Lord's-day  for  j)ul»lic 
instruction,  and  for  the  conviction  and  conversion  of  sin- 
ners now,  without  jiutting  ditficulties  into  peo])lc's  minds, 
or  raising  doubts  which  it  may  be  impossible  to  dispel  ? 
I  deeply  sympathize  with  this,  and  my  whole  teaching 
testifies  to  the  sincerity  of  my  sympathy,  to  the  earnest- 
ness of  my  desire  that  it  should  be  simple  and  practical, 
and  to  avoid  as  much  as  possible  all  doubtful  disputa- 
tions, and  to  aim  constantly  at  one  thing — to  bring  souls 
to  God.  And  I  knoAV  well  how  superficially  any  such 
questions  can  be  dealt  with  in  a  sermon.  But  in  tliese 
days  men  need  not  avoid  going  to  church  to  avoid  doubts 
being  suggested.  We  have  entered  a  period  of  active 
thouGfht,  such  as  has  not  existed  since  the  Reformation. 
Theological  questions  on  every  truth  of  Christianity  are, 
within  the  last  few  years,  forced  upon  men's  notice  in 
every  periodical  down  to  the  daily  papers,  ^len  cannot 
avoid  them,  but  they  may  avoid  church  if  no  ht-lp 
whatever  is  given  to  them  there  to  solve  their  doubts, 
and  to  guide  them  to  truth,  and  to  deal  kindly  and 
candidly  and  intelligently  Avith  their  difficulties.  For  such 
difficulties  many  true  Christians  have  little  sym])athy. 
They  have  symj^athy  with  struggles  against  evil  deeds  or 
habits,  but  not  with  such  doubts  as  bewildered  the  mind 
of  St.  Thomas  when  he  refused  to  believe  in  the  resurrec- 
tion. These  Christians,  by  the  mercy  of  God,  have  been 
blessed  with  such  a  disposition,  or  have  been  placed  in 
such  circumstances,  whether  of  early  u})-bringing,  or  of 
gospel  preaching,  as  have  enabled  them  to  grow  up 
in  the  nurture  and  admonition  of  the  Lord.  But  there 
are  others  differently  placed,  and  if  a  minister  can  help 
such  inquirers ;  if  he  can  show  them  that  he  under- 
stands their  difficulties,  if  he  feels  wiih  them  as  a  brother, 
if  he  prciiches  not  mcn'ly  what  is  given  him  to  utter,  as  if 


187: — 72-  341 

he  were  a  machine,  but  what  he  beheves  and  feels  as  one 
who  has  to  work  his  way  through  difficuhies  hke  otliers  ; 
if  he  has  felt  *  the  burden  of  the  mystery  ; '  if  he  can  put 
them  in  the  way  of  getting  the  truth  ;  if,  in  short,  he  can 
strengthen  their  faith  in  God  and  in  Jesus  as  their  teacher, 
he  will  be  of  some  use,  and  in  spite  of  many  defects  and 
even  errors,  be  a  true  aid  to  his  fellow  men. 

".  .  .  To  believe  that  God  should  create  by  His 
power  millions  of  responsible  beings,  who  are  doomed  to 
agonies  for  ever  for  not  believing  or  not  being  what,  from 
circumstances  over  which  they  had  no  control,  they  could 
not  believe  or  be,  seems  to  many  earnest  minds  quite  im- 
possible. 

"  .  .  .  Is  there,  then,  the  possibility  of  the  educa- 
tion of  human  beings,  of  those  at  least  who  have  never 
had  the  means  of  knowing  the  truth,  and  of  choosing  be- 
tween light  and  darkness,  of  believing  in  or  neglecting 
Christ,  being  continued  after  death  ?  Whatever  weight  is 
attached  to  this  reply,  whatever  deliverance  it  may  afford 
to  distressed  souls,  whatever  light  it  may  cast  on  the 
character  and  purposes  of  God  as  revealed  in  Christ  (and 
it  is  held  by  increasing  numbers  of  the  best  men  in  this 
and  other  ages  of  the  Church),  let  us  understand  at  least 
what  it  means.  It  does  not  mean  that  there  is  not  to 
be  a  day  of  judgment,  after  which  the  fate  of  every  indi- 
vidual of  the  human  family  is  to  be  finally  determined. 
But  when  is  this  period  to  dawn  ?  It  may  be  thousands, 
it  may  be  millions  of  years  ere  the  end  comes  when  Christ 
shall  have  delivered  up  the  kingdom  to  God  the  Father. 
Whatever  may  be  done  towards  such  human  spirits  as  we 
have  spoken  of,  it  is  assumed  to  be  before  that.  Nor  does 
it  mean  that  any  man  can  be  saved  here  or  afterwards  in 
a  way  essentially  different  from  that  in  which  he  is  saved 
now,  except  it  may  be  by  severer  chastisement  and  a  more 
trying  disciiDline.  It  assumes  that  there  is  a  connec- 
tion unchangeable  and  eternal  as  the  law  or  character  of 
God,  between  sin  and  spiritual  suffering.  This  must  show 
itself  in  the  want  of  peace,  joy,  hope,  and  all  that  glory  of 
character  for  which  man  was  created,  and  in  the  ravages 
of  spiritual  disease,  in  deformity  of  soul,  in  blindness,  deaf- 


34*  Z//'A'  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

noss,  and  moral  docropitude.  Consequently,  come  when  it 
may,  in  this  world  or  the  next ;  or  how  it  niay,  by  teaehinj^ 
or  by  chastisement ;  or  when  it  may,  in  three  score  and 
ten  years  or  in  hundreds  of  years,  there  must  be  a  con- 
viction of  sin  as  sin,  a  repentance  towards  God,  a  seeing 
His  love,  and  a  choice  of  Himself  as  God,  through  the 
redem})tion  that  is  in  Christ  Jesus,  before  salvation  is 
possible. 

".  .  .  But  it  is  asked  what  there  is  in  Scripturi3 
to  forbid  the  belief  which  a  sense  of  God's  love  of 
righteousness  in  them  craves  for,  that,  itnay  be,  the  term 
of  education  with  millions  of  the  heathen  and  of  the  igno- 
rant, "\Aho  have  been  neglected  by  selfish  men,  may  not 
terminate  with  three  score  and  ten  years  ?  It  is  not  said 
that  it  must  be  so,  but  it  is  alleged  that,  for  aught  we 
know,  it  may  be  so.  We  are  reminded  that  each  [lerson 
as  he  dies  lives  on — seen  and  known  by  God.  and  is  the 
object  of  His  interest  somewhere — that  wherever  he  is  he  is 
as  responsible  there  as  here  ;  and  it  is  asked  whether  that, 
to  us  unseen, — but  to  them  most  real,  state  of  being, — 
as  real  as  if  it  existed  in  a  material  world  like  this, —  is 
necessarily  an  abode  of  hopeless  unmitigated  woe  for  such 
persons  as  I  have  alluded  to ;  whether  God's  infinite 
resources  are  at  an  end  in  regard  to  them,  and  whether 
truth  may  not  be  made  known  there  which  was  never 
heard  here — a  God  revealed  who  was  unknown  here,  a 
Saviour  proclaimed  with  a  fulness,  tenderness,  love,  and 
all  sufficiency,  Who  was  never  once  preached  to  them  here  ; 
and  whether,  as  the  result  of  this,  the  kingdom  of  God  may 
not  yet  come  in  a  way  that  we  never  dreamt  of — and., 
alas  !  never  in  our  Avretched  and  degraded  feebleness  and 
unbelief  ever  laboured  for  ? 

"  Many  reject  this  thought.  I  remember  the  time  when 
ministers  could  entertain  the  idea  of  God  condemning  an 
infant  to  eternal  misery  from  its  coimection  with  Adam 
— an  opinion  Avhicli  is  as  horrible  as  any  occurring  in 
Brahminism. 

"  Who  Avould  not  wish  the  hope,  whose  character  I  have 
sketched,  to  be  true  ?  A\'ho  would  not  feel  a  great  relief  if 
they  only  saw  that  it  may  be  true  ?      .      .      .      I  liave  some 


iS'i — 72.  343 

sympathy  with  the  fanatic  Communist  Avho  calmly  stands  to 
he  shot,  shouting,  '  Let  me  perish,  if  humanity  is  saved  ! ' 
I  may  not  see  how,  without  faith  in  God  the  Father, 
or  in  Christ  the  Brother,  he  can  obtain  any  true  idea  of 
humanity  as  a  unity,  or  any  real  love  to  it  ;  but  still  there 
is  something  grand  in  such  an  idea  rising  higher  than  his 
personal  love  of  life.  But  where  is  there  similar  grandeur 
in  him  who,  professing  to  have  this  faith,  has  not  only  lost 
all  hope  of  humanity  as  a  whole,  but  rests  contented  in 
Ids  hopelessness  ;  who  seems  to  think  that  any  such  hope 
of  the  j)robable  salvation  of  others  through  Jesus  perils  his 
own,  and  looks  with  nervous  fear  and  jealousy  at  the 
thought  of  any  future  opening  of  the  door  of  the  awful 
prison-house  to  deliver  a  penitent  soul,  who  never  in  life 
had  heard  of  Christ,  as  if  this  made  it  possible  that  a  door 
might  be  opened  for  his  own  fall ;  who,  in  spite  of  all  his 
defects,  all  his  sins,  all  his  greed,  all  his  heartlessness, 
all  his  selfishness,  has  hope  through  the  long  suffering, 
forbearance,  and  patience  of  God,  and  who  yet  feels  in- 
different or  indignant  at  the  thought  of  there  being  possi- 
bly ways  and  means  for  this  same  God  acting  in  mercy  to 
millions  of  miserable  prodigals  who  never  had  his  light — 
a  man  who  cries  out,  not  like  the  Communist,  '  Perish 
myself,  but  live  humanity,'  but,  '  Perish  humanity,  if  I 
live  myself ! ' 

"But  the  vieAV  I  speak  of  may  be, dismissed  by  the 
one  assertion  that  it  is  contrar}^  to  Scripture.  If  so,  it 
is  rot  worthy  of  the  consideration  of  those  who  acknow- 
ledge, as  I  do,  the  supreme  authority  of  the  word  of  God. 
But  Christian  teachers  hold  it  who  would  sooner  give  up 
their  life  than  the  authority  of  Scripture.  They  think 
that  the  passages  which  seem  to  forbid  the  thought  have 
reference  to  what  is  to  happen  after  judgment  only. 

"The  possibility  of  such  an  education  beyond  the  grav« 
is  also  what  the  early  Church  and  many  since  believed  to 
be  the  only  possible  meaning  that  could  be  attached  to 
the  preaching  to  the  spirits  that  are  in  prison,  and  Avhich 
has  found  a  place  in  the  creed  of  Christendom  in  the 
article,  *  He  descended  into  hell,'  to  the  unseen  regions, 
or  the  Avorld  of  spirits.     .      .      ." 


344  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  Dr.  John  Macleoi)  Campbell  :— 

M«rrh  IT),  1S71. 

"  It  v>as  so  kind  of  you,  and  therefore  so  like  yourself, 
to  liavu  taken  the  trouble  to  write  to  me.  There  is  nc 
one  living  wlio  can  so  minister  to  me  as  you  can.  Yoii 
clways  iind  my  spirit,  and  enter  mto  me,  while  others  only 
touch  me.  I  therefore  feel  towards  you  as  to  no  one  else, 
both  as  friend  and  teacher.  If  ever  you  have  seed  you 
wish  to  sow  in  a  soil  that  will  receive  it  and  keep  it, 
please  cast  it  this  way.  Oh,  that  you  sent  me  now  and 
then  a  few  life  thoughts  !      How  precious  would  tlioy  be  ! 

"  I  have  had  a  sharp  and  very  painful  attack  of  gout 
with  sciatica  as  an  interlude,  and  other  pains  for  a 
change.  This  is  the  first  day  I  have  been  out,  for  a 
drive  ;  and  the  blue  sky  and  budding  earth  came  stream- 
ing in  as  a  life-joy  to  my  heart,  which  showed  that  the 
veil  was  lifted  up  which  had  been  concealing  from  me 
things  beautiful,  '  for  I  saw  nor  felt  how  beautiful  they 
were.'  I  cannot  say  that  spiritual  realities  were  vividly 
present  to  me  during  my  illness  ;  but  I  always  felt  God  as 
a  livmg  atmosphere  around  me,  and  I  was  filled  with 
l")eace.  The  lesson  I  think  He  is  teaching  me  is  to  take 
more  care  in  glorifying  Him  in  the  body,  and  to  make  ni}'- 
common  life  of  work  more  religious  by  my  hving  mons 
quietly,  patiently,  and  obediently.  One  result  of  this  edu- 
cation is,  that  I  have  resolved  not  to  go  to  Lord  Lome's 
marriage.  This  is  a  great  loss  in  very  many  ways  to  me, 
as  I  have  been  asked  to  be  a  guest  at  Windsor  ;  but  my 
brother  George  says  '  No,'  and  so  I  say  'Amen  !'  and  feel  at 
rest.  When  the  Communion  is  over,  I  shall  probably  go 
to  some  Spa  abroad,  and  drown  the  enemy  if  possible.  I 
am  too  easily  bothered  and  upset  by  even  trifling  work. 
When  I  -was  confined  to  bed,  I  read  and  was  fasci^^ated  by 
Huttoii's  '  Theological  Essays.'  To  me,  reading  such  a  book 
is  an  era.  He  has  such  a  firm  intellectual  grip  with  one 
hand  of  the  true  scientific  aspects  of  (juestions,  and  with 
the  other  holds  fast,  Avith  true  spiritual  insight,  to  his- 
position  of  'God  in  Christ.'  With  his  anchor  fast  within 
the  veil,  he  swings  round  and  round  with  a  long  cable, 
but  always  round  the  centre.      1  think  it  a  great  contribu- 


1871 — ^2.  3+5 

tion  to  the  times,  but  I  cannot  understand  how  he  should 
not  welcome  your  views  of  the  atonement,  as  they  seem  to 
me  to  harmonize  so  beautifully  with  his  principles  and  his 
views  of  truth.  I  am  glad  that  he  adheres  to  the  fourth 
Gospel. 

"  What  a  mystery  is  this  slow — to  us,  slow — growth  in 
the  education  of  the  Avorld  !  It  Avould  be  to  me  still  more 
mysterious,  if  it  were  not  to  be  continued  till  Christ  delivers 
up  the  kingdom.  '  Then  cometh  the  end.'  When — what? 
No  doubt  to  the  glory  of  God  in  a  way  and  measure  such  as 
to  overpower  the  minds  and  hearts  of  the  wliole  family  of 
God.  I  wait  in  the  full  assurance  of  fiiith.  Hoav  strange, 
too — how  long  the  clouds  Imger  in  the  blue  sky,  which- 
nevertheless  are  as  surely  passing  away  as  morning  mists 
before  His  love.  It  is  sweet  to  think  tl^at  such  darkness 
conceals  us  not  from  the  Lio^ht  of  Life.  But  the  common 
notion  of  the  punishment  of  hell  fire,  and  for  all  eternity  ; 
the  punishment  of  all  who  have  not  been  elected,  and  have, 
for  Adam's  sin,  been  justly  left  dead  without  an  atonement ; 
the  atonement  itself  as  explained  by  hyper-Calvinists  ;  the 
utter  impossibility  of  any  teaching  or  salvation  after  death 
(how  we  may  not  see)  ;  these,  and  the  whole  complicated 
system  of  sacerdotalism  and  popery,  seem  to  me  a  thousand 
times  doomed.  And  yet,  God  is  so  wise,  so  charitable,  so 
patient,  such  a  Father,  that  even  by  these  ideas,  or  in  spite 
of  them,  He  will  educate  man  for  '  the  fulness  of  time,'  the 
grand  '  end  !'  I  feel  more  and  more  the  simplicity  and 
grandeur  and  truth  of  Luther's  idea  of  faith — to  be  an  out 
and  out  child  ;  to  be  nothing,  that  God  may  be  all,  not 
only  for  us,  but  in  us  ;  and,  perhaps  more  than  Luther 
would  admit,  to  choose  this — and  to  choose  it  not  only 
once  for  all  (a  mighty  choice !),  but  always  and  in  aU 
things — what  strength  and  peace !  I  know  the  lesson, 
but  it  seems  to  me  that  I  have  never  learned  it.  And 
heaven  would  be  heaven,  were  it  nothing  more  than  its 
being  the  finishing  of  our  education  by  the  perfect  utterance 
of  '  Our  Father.'  " 


346  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

From  his  Jouuxal  : — 

"  Aj^ril  dth. — This  is  Communion  Sunday — Easter  Run- 
day.  I  conducted  tlie  service  in  the  forenoon.  I  am  at 
home  for  tlie  rest  of  the  day. 

"  The  winter's  work  has  been  chiefly  preachincj.  I  ex- 
changed witli  Donald,  and  proaclicd  tlie  Temptation  ser- 
mons in  Park  Churcli,  he  preaching  for  me  for  five  Sundays. 
Had  pleasant  district  meetings,  with  a  new  plan  of  inviting 
the  members  to  tea.  This  has  helped  to  unite  us.  I 
have  raised  by  personal  application  every  farthing  for 
Bluevale  Church,  now  £2,100,  and  it  will  soon  be  the 
£2,500.  I  profoundly  feel  that  tliis,  like  all  done  by 
me,  is  God's  doing,  certainly  not  mine.  Our  organ  has 
been  given  by  kind,  good  James  Baird,  and  a  memorial 
window  by  Mrs.  George  Grant.  I  am  deeply  thankful  that 
the  number  of  my  communicants  has  been  greater  than 

usual,  new  ones  eighteen,  and  among  them  my  dear . 

Oh!  what  a  joy  it  is  to  see  my  beloved  children,  one  after 
the  other,  thus  in  simplicity  of  faith  publicly  accepting  of 
the  Saviour.  God's  Spirit  has  surely  been  with  them  since 
birth.  I  don't  think  they  have  been  converted  by  any 
sudden  change.  They  seem  to  me  as  growing  up  in  the  faith, 
being  educated  gradually  by  the  Spirit.  They  are  full  of 
life,  energy,  and  happiness,  and  will  probably  have  to  pass 
through  trials  in  which  their  true  life  will  be  deepened. 
They  little  know  how  happy  they  are,  and  in  what  domestic 
sunshine  they  have  lived.  God  bless  them,  darlings,  in 
the  bonds  of  Christ. 

"  I  have  published  in  Good  Words  my  War  sermon  and 
my  Temptation  sermons.  The  Peace  Society  seem  to  dis- 
like me.  We  don't  comj)rehend  each  other.  They  think 
me  blind,  and  I  think  them  silly. 

"I  have  been  reading  Hutton's  'Essays'  with  great 
delight.  His  great  defect  is  ignoring  the  Holy  Spirit,  or 
not  connecting  Him,  as  he  does  the  Eternal  Son,  with  one 
eternal  abiding  rcalit}'. 

"  I  have  been  much  distressed  about  our  Indian  Mis- 
sion. Within  a  few  weeks  we  have  had  many  losses ;  but 
God  will  certainly  provide.  We  are  deep  in  debt.  We  want 
men  and  money  ;  from  whom  but  One  can  we  get  both  ? 


1871—72-  347 

"  The  war!  the  Reds  and  Assembly  now  fightmg.  Of 
coarse  the  Commune  must  go  down,  or  France  as  a  nation 
mast.  What  next?  Monarch}' before  long.  But  the  character 
of  the  people  has  been  ruined  and  requires  a  national 
restoration  of  principle,  of  patriotism,  of  unselfishness  ;  the 
destruction  of  a  sensual,  vain,  irreverent,  and  cruel  spirit. 
The  French  need  to  be  Piiritanised,  if  that  is  possible,  or 
even  Teutonised.  It  will  take  two  generations  of  peace, 
education,  and  a  firm,  wise,  truthful,  and  powerful  govern- 
ment to  do  this.  Where  are  the  governors  ?  Where  are 
those  who  will  be  governed  ?  Unless  a  nation  is  religiously 
educated,  it  is  gone.  I  fear  our  own  may  sutler  from 
secularists  and  Comtists." 

The  following  letter  was  written  in  reply  to  some 
inquiries  which  were  made  regarding  a  young  clergy- 
man who  was  a  candidate  for  a  parish.  Among  other 
questions  Dr.  Macleod  was  asked  whether  he  had  any 
faults. 

" .  .   .   .   Mr. ,  wdien  with  me,  was  very  earnest 

in  the  discharge  of  his  duties,  remarkably  successful  in 
impressing  the  working  classes,  and  in  bringing  very  many 
not  only  to  the  church,  but  I  believe  to  God.  ...  I  do 
not  say  but  that  he  may  have  delects  which  some  nice 
critics  might  possibly  detect,  although  they  are  so  small 
as  not  to  be  Avorth  mentioning ;  but  if  he  were  perfect,  he 
would  be  more  fit  for  heaven  than  the  parish  of " 

To  Mr.  SiMPSOK',  at  Messr-s.  Blackwood  and  Sons : — 

Mcnj  8,  1871. 

"  I  have  the  pleasure  of  sending  you  my  first  por- 
tion of  MS.  of  the  Indian  Mission  Report.  A  single 
glance  will  convince  you  of  one  fact,  and  to  be  assured  of 
the  truth  of  even  one  fact  is  in  my  opinion  a  great  gain 
in  these  days,  when  a  man  is  thought  a  conservative  bigot 
who  believes  beyond  doubt  that  2-|-2=4.  The  fact 
I  allude  to  is,  that  my  hand   has  not  improved  with  age 


348 


LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 


and  experience.  As  Falstaff  says,  '  thou  knowest  thine 
old  ward,'  that  is,  my  old  hand,  and  it  will  he  some 
advantage  to  the  mission  if  any  of  your  devils  share  your 
knowledije. 

"  I  know  a  man  who  was  so  disgusted  with  some  '  proofs ' 
which  he  had  received,  that  he  commenced  a  course  of 
study  on  printing  hy  ordering  '  MacEwan  on  the  Types.' 
I  never  heard  what  effect  it  had  on  him. 

"  I  shall  send  j^ou  more  as  soon  as  possible — I  mean 
MS.  which  might  be  interpreted,  '  more  scribbling.'  " 


To  his  Mother  : — 

Ems,  May  7,  1871. 

"  What  misery  you  must  be  enduring,  and  no  wonder  ! 

Here  am  I,  gone  off  for  the  first  time  in  my  life — poor 

little  boy  !  and  across  the  wild  ocean,  and 

to   savage   peojile,   not   to  return   for  ten 

long,  long  years  !     Oh  it's  sad  !  sad  ! 

"  A  sky  of  perfect  blue,  warm  sunshine, 
but  a  chill  in  the  shade,  an  east-wind  feel, 
telling  that  summer   is  not  yet   begun.      But  the  woods 

are  green,  the  birds  sing- 
ing, and  the  cuckoo  toll- 
ing through  the  glens. 

"  I  don't  feel  better, 
for  to  tell  the  truth  I 
did  not  feel  ill  imme- 
diately before  leaving. 
But  I  feel  well,  peaceful, 
happy,  and  I  believe 
after  a  month  will  re- 
turn with  good  s[)irit  for 
fair  honest  work,  not 
extra. 

"  I  have  finished  '  Lo- 
thair,'  which  I  have  read 
for  the  first  time.  It  is 
nothing  as  a  storj'-,  or  rather  it  is  miserably  ill  put  toge- 
ther, but   it  contains  a  series  of  most  interesting  pictures 


I87I — -jl.  349. 

of  life.  I  have  no  interest  in  the  hero,  he  is  a  mere  bit  of 
fine  red  wax,  impressed  by  every  new  seal.  The  best  tiling 
in  the  book  is  the  exposure  of  the  tricky  and  clever  way 
of  Rome  in  making  converts. 

"Now  my  dear,  are  you  amazed  we  had  no  hurricane? 
No  accidents  ?  No  sore  backs  or  broken  heads  ;  but  that 
we  eat,  sleep,  and  thoroughly  enjoy  ourselves,  and  have 
now  but  one  wish,  to  be  back  soon  among  you  all." 

To  his  Mother  :— 

Ems,  May  17,  1871. 

"  It  is  interesting  to  see  the  wounded  soldiers  walking 
about  here  with  their  iron  crosses.  The  leader  of  the 
band  has  one.  He  led  the  band  of  th'^  Guards  as  they 
marched  into  battle  at  Gravelotte.  A  ijue  old  fellow  was 
drinking  at  the  spring  yesterday.  A  ball  had  passed 
into  his  breast  and  out  at  his  back  at  Spicheren. 

"  A  very  nice  fellow  was  dressed  in  faded  uniform, 
sitting  behind  his  counter,  with  such  a  blithe  face.  He 
had  come  back  the  day  before  to  Avife  and  children.  His 
next  neighbour,  landlord  of  the  Golden  Vine,  who  was 
engaged  to  our  landlady's  daughter,  lies  buried  where 
he  fell. 

"  A  noble-looking  Uhlan  officer  who  walks  about,  was 
surrounded  with  his  troop.  The  French  officer  ran  a 
lance  through  his  coat  onl}^  The  lance  broke,  and  he 
shot  the  officer,  and  returned  with  the  lance  hanging  in 
his  clothes. 

"  I  never  saw  more  modest,  unassuming  men." 


To  Dr.  Watson  : — 

Ems,  May,  1871. 

"  I  have  been  fairly  settled  here  for  two  days  only,  livi*ng 
in  lodgings,  rising  at  6.30,  drinking,  morning  and  evening, 
half-boiled  soda  water  from  a  Briinnen ;  taking  baths 
every  second  day,  walking  two  hours.,  watching  roulette, 
and  rejoicing  in  the  losses  of  the  fools  who  stake  their 
money  ;  reading  novels  (Lothajr  for  tlie  first  time),  and 
all  with  balmy  air  and  a   quiet  conscience.      I   am   as  yet 


350  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

much  as  I  was  when  I  left  homp,  well,  hut  heavy  in  the 
legs,  and  gouty.  Lut  I  have  no  doubt  I  shall  be  all  right 
and  cheery  yet. 

"  My  great  anxiety  is  our  ^lission. 

"  Holland  is  in  a  horrid  state,  a  hundred  and  sixty-five 
l^arishes  vacant,  no  clergy  to  fill  them.  Rationalism  reigns. 
The  national  system  of  education  is  rearing  a  godless  peojjle. 
The  teaching  of  national  history  even  is  forbid,  as  the  histoiy 
of  the  national  struggles  against  Rome  would  otfend  the 
Papists.     May  heaven  confound  their  pohtics  1  " 

To  the  Same  : — 

"  Your  letter  did  me  more  good  than  a  hogshead  of 
^I's  or  N's  water.  A  thousand  thanks  for  it.  Of  course 
I  am  anxious  about  the  India  Mission  Report.  I  may 
have  to  resign  the  Convenership.  But  I  leave  my  honour 
in  your  hands,  and  give  you  full  authority  to  give  in  my 
resignation  when  you  give  in  your  own.  I  will  not  carry 
out  a  ditierent  policy  from  the  present.  I  could  not. 
My  judgment  would  not  go  with  it.  So  far  from  losing 
heart,  one  result  of  restored  health,  should  God  grant  it, 
will,  I  firmly  and  gladly  hope,  be  to  let  me  loose  again  for 
a  season  through  the  chief  towns  in  Scotland,  and  to 
address  the  students,  on  behalf  of  the  Mission.  '  We 
believe,  and  therefore  speak.* 

"  I  deeply  feel  with  you  that  unless  we  get  such 
men  as  Jardine,  Wilson,  Grant,  it  will  be  vain  to  sow 
seeds  in  India  which  will  produce  the  Church  of  the 
future.  An  American  clergyman  told  me  j'-esterday  that 
Puritan  (once)  New  England  is  now  becoming  the  hot- 
bed for  atheism  and  Popery.  I  pray  God  we  may  be  able 
to  help  to  save  Scotland  from  a  similar  re-action,  which 
the  union  of  the  F.  and  U.  P.  Churches  would  develop 
more  rapidly.  I  don't  fear  disestabhshment ;  but  so  long 
as  there  is  a  clerical  order  of  men,  who  may  beg,  but  are 
not  allowed  to  dig,  I  fear  an  uneducated  and  low-bred 
clergy." 


1871—72.  351 

To  his  Mother  : — 

Ems,  May  31,  1871. 

"  I  did  not  tell  you  I  had  crossed  to  London.  I 
heard,  en  route,  a  night  service  in  Cologne  Cathedral. 
There  were  2,000  people  present,  a  mere  handful  in  that 
huge  pile.  The  sermon  was  quite  like  a  Gaelic  one, 
preached  by  a  hot  old  Ross-shire  minister,  in  which  the 
glories  of  Rome  took  the  place  of  the  glories  of  the 
Kirk  and  its  principles.  All  other  parties  were  of  course 
anathematised.  The  people  were  deeply  earnest.  After 
the  sermon,  a  glorious  simple  hymn  was  sung,  led  by  the 
organ,  and  by  female  or  boys'  voices  only.  The  last  rays 
of  evening  were  lighting  up  the  exquisite  old  windows 
high  up  in  the  nave,  and  casting  on  the  pillars,  whose  tojis 
were  lost  in  darkness,  marvellous  colours  of  every  hue  ; 
below  was  the  dark  silent  mass  of  worshippers.  Lights 
were  on  the  altar,  above  which  was  the  tawdry  image 
— so  like  Lidia  ! — of  Virgin  and  Child.  Under  the  altar 
were  the  famous  '  Kings  of  Cologne,'  who  had  paid  homage 
to  Christ,  the  '  Magi,'  all  telling  of  media3val  stories, 
belonging  to  a  world  passing  away  ;  but  all  was  lost  to 
me  in  those  angelic  strains  that  warbled  here  and  there  as 
they  seemed  to  wander  along  the  fretted  roof,  coming 
you  knew  not  from  whence.  An  old  priest  before  the 
altar  then  repeated  various  prayers,  the  commandments, 
&c.,  to  which  Aniens  were  given,  that  were  repeated  like 
the  murmurs  of  the  sea,  from  the  larije  conQ-recation. 
The  holy  sacrament  was  exhibited,  and  all  knelt  in  silent 
devotion,  and  then  departed.      What  a   strange   world  is 

this  J     Not  one  there  ever  heard  of  G or  B ! 

and  yet  Scotland,  if  true  to  God,  and  not  to  its  Church 
only,  will  help  to  blow  up  Rome,  otherwise  Rome  will 
blow  it  up." 

"  I  am  not  so  very  sad  now.  My  spirits  rise  sometimes 
in  proportion  to  real  difficulties,  and  I  feel  anxious  to 
enter  on  India  Mission  work  with  renewed  vigour." 


352  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

To  Dr.  Watson  : — 

Ems,  June  5,  1S71. 

"  I  have  been  greatly  worried  day  and  night  with  the 
India  Mission.  What  speeches  have  I  made  ahout  it ! 
And  so  it  is  that  I  have  got  the  old  gout  back,  and  can 
hardly  crawl,  ^^^ly  do  I  bother  myself?  Why  do  I 
think  ?  It  is  in  my  blood — bone  of  my  bone  ;  it  came 
Avith  my  father  and  mother  and  all  my  forbears,  and  must 
die  with  me  ;  but  it  is  not  to  every  one  I  can  lay  bare 
my  feelings.  On  thy  calm  devoted  head  I  can  discharge 
my  lightning,  and  roar  like  thunder,  or  bray  like  an  ass. 
So  I  am  thankful  I  was  not  in  the  Assembly.  I  would 
liave  gone  wild,  and  been  sorry  for  it  next  morning. 
The  cause  was  in  better  and  wiser  hands  when  in  thine," 

From  his  Jourxal  : — 

Gedbes,  Septeviber  14,  1871. 

"  Early  in  ^lay  we  went  to  Ems  by  the  advice  of  Sir 
William  Jenner.  The  back-bone  of  that  journey  is 
recorded  in  Good  Words.  We  were  very  happ}-.  Dear 
Nommey  went  with  us.  The  Van  Loons  were  very 
kind  to  us.  The  General  Assembly,  and  its  ignorant  treat- 
ment of  the  Indian  Mission,  has  given  me  some  trouble, 
and  if  God  spares  me,  I  shall  in  a  long  and  possibly  final 
speech  in  the  next  General  Assembly,  defend  it  with  all  my 
might  from  these  attacks." 

One  of  the  few  public  meetings  which  he  attended 
this  year  was  the  Scott  Centenary,  held  in  Glasgow  in 
August.  The  address  recently  given  to  the  British 
Association  by  its  distinguished  president  —  his 
esteemed  friend  Sir  William  Thomson  —  resjiecting 
the  meteoric  origin  of  the  germs  from  which  vegetable 
and  animal  life  have  been  evolved,  was  then  exciting 
considerable  comment,  and  it  i)rovoked  him  to  indulge 
on  this  occasion  in  some  quiet  banter,  Mhich  no  one 
of  the  audience  enjoyed  more  than  Sir  AVilliam. 


1871  —  72.  353 

"  It  is  not  for  me,"  he  said,  "  to  ncconnt  for  the  genesis 
of  that  marvellous  literature,  so  [)rolitic  as  to  have  multi- 
plied and  replenished  the  earth.  Instructed  by  science,  I 
dare  not  seek  its  origin  in  the  crentive  mind  of  Scott  ; 
yet,  as  it  is  a  literature  so  full  of  life,  it  must,  I  suppose, 
have  come  from  life  somewhere.  Will  my  illustrious 
friend,  the  President  of  the  British  Association — for 
whom  my  highest  admiration  and  deepest  aftection  are 
divided — pardon  an  ignoramus  like  me,  if  I  start  an 
hypothesis  to  account  for  those  extraordinary  phenomena  ? 
Is  it  not  possible,  I  timidly  ask,  that  some  circulating 
library,  or,  more  correctly  spealdng,  some  library  circu- 
lating through  endless  space — some  literary  meteoric 
group  of  '  Mudies  '  and  '  Maclehoses  '  was  broken  up — and 
that  the  shreds  of  the  exploded  leaves  fell  on  Ben  iSevis 
or  the  Braes  of  Lochaber,  accomj^auied,  perhaps,  by  the 
shivered  fragments,  from  a  distant  Highland  world,  of  bag- 
pipes and  claymores  and  '  spleuchans  '  and  kilts,  and  that 
out  of  them  sprang  *  Waverley,'  and  that  this  product 
/  Waverley '  selected,  very  naturally,  the  west  of  Scotland 
in  which  to  evolve  sundry  other  novels  of  that  ilk?  "* 


*  A  friend  who  was  an  hahitue  of  the  '  back  study '  relates,  that 
shortly  before  the  speech  was  delivered,  the  '  meteoric  theorj' '  was 
thei-e  discussed,  especially  with  reference  to  the  reception  it  had  met 
with  from  newspaper  critics,  who  seemed  to  be  iinanimous  in  holding 
that  it  only  removed  the  difficulty  as  to  the  origin  of  life  a  stage  back. 
Norman's  friend,  in  a  note  which  he  sent  to  a  local  journal  and  which 
was  read  in  the  '  back  study,'  contended  that  this  criticism  was  unfair, 
inasmuch  as  the  difficulty  was  not  only  removed  farther  back,  but 
removed  out  of  this  world  altogether,  and  after  having  bothered  our 
savants  for  ages,  would  now  have  to  be  taken  up  by  the  Association 
for  the  Promotion  of  Science  in  one  of  the  other  planets.  Tickled  by 
this  suggestion,  and  marching  up  and  down  the  room,  Norman 
dictated  a  P.S.  to  be  appended  to  the  note. 

"Perhaps  the  men  of  science  would  do  well,  in  accordance  with 
these  latest  results,  to  rewrite  the  first  chapter  of  Genesis  in  this 
way:— 

1.  The  earth  was  without  form  and  void. 

2.  A  meteor  fell  upon  the  earth. 

3.  The  result  was  fish,  flesh,  and  fowl. 

4.  From  these  proceeded  the  British  Association. 

5.  And  the  British  Association  pronounced  it  all  tolerably  good  I" 

VOL.    II.  A  A 


3;4 


LIFE  OF  XURMAX  MACLEOD. 


From  Ilia  JoruxAL  : — 

<tEDDKS,  SfpU-nther  14,  1871. 

"  Thank  God  for  this  peace !  I  have  liad  a  most 
hhissed  time  ht^Te — the  more  hlessed  hecause,  as  I 
had  anticipated,  it  made  my  own  dear  one  so  happ^•. 
Ko  wonder  !  It  has  heon  Hke  a  resurrection  of  old 
friends  of  the  family,  rich  and  ])oor.  The  kindness 
from  all  has  been  quite  overpowering.  I  thank  God 
that  my  children,  who  have  been  all  I  could  wish — have 
had  proof  of  the  deep  affection  and  respect  in  which 
their  grandfather  and  gran(hnother  have  been  held.  It 
is  most  touching,  and  immensely  gratifying — a  great 
reward  for  their  goodness — to  hear  their  jjraises  spoken  of 
by  every  one  with  a  pathos  and  toucliing  heartiness  which 
is  most  pleasing.  I  cannot  tell  what  a  marvellous  gift 
Geddes  has  been  to  me.  It  has  made  our  own  John 
literally  alive  again.  I  have  preached  twice  here,  and 
given  an  Indian  address,  and  raised  £40.  I  have 
preached  with  great  delight  twice  in  the  School  House. 
I  wish  daily  to  reveal  the  Father  to  His  children.  It  is 
such  light,  such  freedom,  such  a  binding  powerl 

"  We  have  sung,  danced,  and  played  croquet, 
written  '  Major  Fraser.' 

"  God  reconciles  all  in  Himself. 

•'  Oh,  my  Father,  thanks — thanks  be  to  Thee  ! 

"  We   leave   to-morrow.      I  lament   nothing.      I 
God  for   everything.      His  goodness  is   overpowering, 
do  kno^v  how  Cfood  He  is  !  " 


I  have 


thank 
I 


TVHiile  at  Geddes  the  memory  of  John  Mackintosh 
seemed  continually  with  him  as  a  sweet  and  refresh- 
ing presence.  One  of  his  first  walks  was  to  a  spot 
closely  associated  with  him,  and  he  used  to  tell  the 
overpowering  effect  it  had,  when,  as  he  was  sitting 
there  wrapt  iu  quiet  thought,  he  heard  the  wild  sad 
notes  of  the  bag-pipe  playing  '  Mackintosh's  Lament ' 
— one  of  the  most  beautiful,  as  it  was  now  the  most 
appropriate    of  pibrochs.     The  fiimily  usually  spent 


iSji — 72.  355 

the  evening  in  tlio  hall,  off  wliieh  opened  tlie  door 
of  what  liad  been  John  Mackintosh's  room ;  and 
when  his  children  were  dancing  reels,  he  would  often 
sit  watching  them,  lost  in  quiet  thought,  the  past  and 
present  mingling  without  discord,  and  feeling  how 
'  God  reconciled  all  things  in  Himself.'  The  follow- 
ing impromptu  lines  express  the  character  of  these 
musings  : — 

IN  MEMORIAM  OP   "THE  EARNEST  STUDENT." 

(impromptu.) 

In  the  hall  was  dancing  and  singing, 
My  children  Tvere  brimful  of  joy. 
I  sat  there  alone,  and  in  shadow. 
Near  his  room  dreaming  about  him 
Who  thei'e  long  had  laboured  and  prayed, 
Where  angels  saw  heaven  and  earth  meeting 
In  the  heart  of  that  true  child  of  God, — 
The  bright,  the  unselfish,  and  joyous  ! 
And  the  chill  winds  of  autumn  were  moaning 
Through  the  pines,  down  his  favourite  walks; 
But  the  sturs  were  out  brightly  shining, 
And  one  brighter  than  all  was  above. 
I  dreamt  of  those  last  days  of  sickness. 
Of  his  patience,  his  meekness,  and  love, 
Of  the  calm  of  his  summer  twilight, 
Of  the  midnight  before  the  bright  day. 
As  I  gazed  at  that  chamber  long  empty. 
In  this  home,  his  heaven  when  on  earth. 
It  was  strange,  it  was  terribly  awing. 
To  think  of  him  now  lying  dead  ! 
Dead  as  the  granite  that  heavily 
Covered  him  with  the  stones  and  clay  I 
That  heart  of  the  laughing  and  loving 
In  a  cold  leaden  coflBn  lying  still ! 
That  heart  to  which  all  that  was  truest 
And  pure  was  a  well-spring  of  joy, 
Yonder  twenty  long  years  lying  buried. 
Yet  for  twenty  long  years  still  living 
Elsewhere  in  the  home  of  his  Father  ! 
Ah,  where  was  he  now,  in  what  mansion, 
In  what  star  of  the  infinite  sky  ? 
Whom  had  he  met  since  we  parted. 
Since  the  night  when  we  bade  him  farewell  ? 
What  since  had  he  seen,  was  he  seeing  ? 
A    A  2 


35ft  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

What  since  Lad  ho  done,  was  he  doing  ? 

"NVitli  wlioin  had  lio  sjioke.  wa-  ho  spcikingP 

Did  lie  think  of  lis  liero,  and  leiiienilnr 

Those  he  never  forgot  when  on  (uuth  ? 

Was  ho  hero  with  the  ministering  angels 

In  the  hall  of  his  early  dead  home  ? 

Ah,  what  would  ho  think  of  our  evenings. 

Our  evenings  so  merrily  spent? 

Could  his  heart  now  feel  holy  sorrow, 

With  his  faith  and  love  perfect  in  God  ? 

Could  his  heavenly  sunshine  be  shadowed. 

Beholding  these  forms  of  earth's  gladness 

'Midst  the  sin  and  the  sufferings  of  life  r* 

AVould  he  wonder  that  we  could  be  liappy. 

And  his  and  our  Saviour  still  waiting 

To  see  joy  from  his  anxious  soul -travail, 

And  the  true  life  of  God  in  the  world  ? 

Ah  !  that  dour  one  would  bear  our  weaknesJl, 

Our  sleep  'midst  the  glories  around, 

Our  blindness  to  all  he  rtjoiced  in, 

Our  slowness  to  leai'u  from  our  Loid  ! 

As  I  gazed  at  his  room,  now  silent, 

The  sweet  life  he  then  lived  recalling. 

Him  laughing  and  playing  with  children 

Telling  tales  to  them,  singing  them  songs; 

His  true  soul  in  harmony  chiming 

With  all  the  arrangements  of  God  ; 

I  awoko  from  my  dream,  yet  saying. 

In  anguish,  "  My  love,  thou  art  dead  ! 

Thou  art  dead  to  us  twenty  long  years!'* 

Then  I  said,  "  No,  my  love  is  living  ; 

For  is  he  not  part  of  our  being, 

And  with  us  wherever  we  are  ; 

And  are  not  all  '  together  with  God  ' — 

With  Himself  the  life  of  the  living!  " 

If  we  saw  thee  once  more  among  us, 

We  would  flj'  to  thine  arms  entwining. 

And  thy  smiles  as  of  old  would  welcome. 

With  the  old  voice  of  love  only  sweeter. 

And  the  bright  eyes  of  love  only  brighter 

All  lovely  I  see  thee  among  us. 

And  hear  thy  loved  accents  again  ; 

In  my  calmed  heart  whisjiering  gently, 

"  These  joys  are  all  gifts  from  our  Father, 

13ut  oiu-  Father  Himself  is  all." 

Now  all  are  at  rest.     It  is  midnight — 
How  dead  is  the  hall  and  how  silent! 
The  niglit  winds  still  sadly  are  moauing. 
But  the  stars  are  still  brightly  shining, 
Still  o'er  all  is  the  bright  light  of  God  ! 


i87'~72-  357 

To  Mrs.  MACLEOD : — 

Balmoeal,  Oct.,  1871. 

"  I  preaclied  extempore,  on  '  Our  Father  which  art 
in  Heaven,'  and  on  the  education  of  men  beyond  the 
grave.  I  fear  I  shocked  not  a  few — I  hope  I  did  so  for 
good. 

"  We  have  here  Helps  and  Mr.  Forster,  M.P.,  and  we 
have  had  tremendous  theological  talks  till  2  A.M.  I  keep 
my  own  not  amiss.  I  have  the  greatest  possible  respect 
for  Forster's  abilities  and  truthfulness.  Would  God  we 
could  lose  our  Calvinism,  and  put  all  the  teaching  of 
Christ  and  His  apostles  in  a  form  according  to  fact  and  not 
theory.  '  Our  Father '  is  the  root  of  all  religion  and 
morality,  and  can  be  seen  with  the  spirit,  rather  than  the 
mere  intellect. 

"  The  Queen  has  asked  me  to  remain  till  to-morrow. 
I  hope  to  have  another  set-to  with  the  M.P.  He  seems 
to  expect  the  same,  as  he  said  '  Hurrah  ! '  when  I  told 
him  I  was  to  remain." 

From  his  Joue:n'AL  : — 

"  January. — I  have  lost  much  to  my  memory,  already 
failing  from  a  multiplicity  of  objects,  in  having  recorded 
so  little  about  '71. 

"  I  have  been  very  steadily  at  home  since  September, 
and  mj-  every  day  occupied  with  those  details  of  public 
and  private  life  which,  although  important  at  the  time  and 
demanding  patience  and  forethought,  and  bringing  usual 
cares  and  worries,  soon  pass,  like  the  seas  which  a  vessel 
meets  every  ten  minutes,  that  hit  her,  splash  over  her, 
make  her  shiver,  and  are  forgotten.  My  life  is  strangely 
broken  into  small  jiarts,  and  as  this  is  God's  will,  I  must 
submit,  and  make  the  best  of  it. 

"  Events  !  what  are  they  ?  None  !  Addressing  meet 
ings  and  soirees  in  my  own  parish,  preaching,  finishing 
Jjluevale  Church,  directing  India  Mission,  writing  letters 
innumerable,  visiting  sick,  writing  nonsense  for  Good  Words 
for  (lie  Young  —  doing  everything  and  doing  nothing. 
Stanlev  has  been  with  me." 


35  8  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD, 

The  hymn  '  Trust  in  God  and  do  the  Ei.i^ht,' 
which  had  been  written  in  1858,  was  not  published 
in  Good  Words  until  January,  1872.  On  its  appear- 
ance there  a  writer  in  a  local  paper  charged  Dr. 
Macleod  with  plagiarism  from  an  American  hymn- 
writer,  stating  that  he  had  in  his  possession  a  volume, 
compiled  by  Philip  Philips,  of  Ilymns  by  American 
Authors,  in  which  these  words  occurred;  that  this 
volume  was  in  circulation  a  considerable  time  before 
this  number  of  Good  Words  appeared.  A  friend  hav- 
ing sent  this  criticism  to  Dr.  Macleod,  the  following 
letter  was  sent  in  reply  : — 

Fridmj. 

"  I  received  your  note  with  extract  from  a  Paisley 
ncAVspapcr  last  night  on  my  return  from  Li\'erpool.  I 
think  the  critic  miglit  have  done  me  the  justice  of  send- 
ing me  a  copy  of  liis  remarks.  But  this  has  too  often 
been  my  experience  of  writers  in  newspapers.  They 
seldom  take  the  trouble  to  let  you  know  wliat  they  have 
been  publishing  against  you  ;  I  have  seen  letters  and 
criticisms  founded  upon  the  most  absurd  assumptions  weeks 
after  they  were  published,  and,  of  course,  never  contradicted. 
In  regard  to  the  verses  in  question  it  is  quite  clear  that 
some  Yankee  in  his  zeal  for  hj'uuiology  has  neither  trusted 
God  nor  done  the  right,  but  trusted  to  a  lie  and  done  the 
wrong.  These  verses  of  mine  were  first  published  at  the 
end  of  a  lecture  given  to  the  young  men  at  Exeter  Hall  in 
1858.  The  music  was  composed  by  Sullivan  expressly  for 
the  Avords.  l-lut  it  is  perfectly  i)ossi])le  that  some  spiri- 
tualist hyum-writer  in  America  may  have  written  the  sanie 
words,  composing  the  same  music,  using  Mr.  Philip  Philips 
as  his  medium.  Afi^^r  all,  such  barefaced  stealing  is  too 
bad. 

"  Make  any  use  of  this  you  please." 

As  he  had  always  practised  strict  reticence  regard- 


1871 — 72-  359 

ing  all  matters  connected  with  the  Court,  and  heartily 
hated  that  gossip  which  the  j)ublic  craves  for  only  too 
greedily,  he  was  not  a  little  surprised  and  annoyed  to 
find  a  few  kindly  words  he  had  spoken  off-hand  at  the 
laying  of  a  foundation-stone  at  Lenzie,  near  Glasgow, 
made  the  occasion  for  a  grossly  personal  attack  on  the 
part  of  some  of  the  English  newspapers.  The  insinua- 
tion as  to  his  using  flaf^ery  for  selfish  objects  was  too 
ofi'ensive  to  be  publicly  noticed  by  him,  but  he  was 
none  the  less  gratified  by  the  manner  in  which  he 
was  vindicated  by  other  representatives  of  the  press. 

To  Mr.  Hedderwick,  Editor  of  the  Glasgow  Citizen  : — 

January,  1872. 

"  I  have  just  read  your  generous  defence  of  me  against 
the  most  untrue  and  malicious  attacks  of  the  news[)a[)ers. 
The  fact  is  that  during .  the  thirteen  or  fourteen  years  in 
which  I  have  been  in  close  contact  with  the  Royal  Ffimily, 
I  have  carefully  avoided  ever  speaking  about  them  in 
public,  and  in  private  only  to  intimate  friends.  Yet  I 
have  often  felt  my  heart  burning  in  listening  to  all 
the  wild  lies  told  about  them.  These,  my  only  two 
speeches,  were  purely  accidental,  and  almost  forced  upon 
me. 

"  At  Lenzie  I  forgot  tliere  were  reporters  in  the  room, 
and  was  suddenly  called  upon  by  the  chairman  to  confirm 
the  account  he  gave  of  the  Queen's  health  ;  and  a  minute 
before  I  spoke  I  had  as  much  intention  of  doing  so  as  of 
seeking  to  be  knighted.  So  it  was  in  the  Presbytery — I 
was  not  aware  the  topic  was  to  be  introduced.  Dr.  M. 
was  speaking  about  it  as  I  entered.  He  stopped,  and 
called  on  me  to  propose  it,  and  I  did  so  without  one 
minute's  preparation.  To  flatter  majesty  is  gross  im- 
pertinence. As  to  being  knighted,  thank  God  the 
Queen  herself  cannot  bestow  any  honour  of  the  kind  on  a 
Scotch  clergyman.      No  possible  favour  can  she  grant  mo. 


36o  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

or  lionoiir  bestow,  beyond  what  the  poor  can  give  the  i^ooi 
— lier  friendship. 

"  Yours  gratefully, 

"  N.    MACLEOD. 

"  I  never  asked  a  favour  from  the  Queen  or  Government 
since  I  was  born." 


The  improvement  which  his  sojourn  at  Ems  and  the 
snmnKir's  rest  at  Geddes  had  wrought  on  his  health 
was  unfortunately  of  short  duration.  Before  mid- 
winter was  reached,  and  in  spite  of  his  taking  the  utmost 
care  in  avoiding  unnecessary  engagements,  his  work 
began  to  tell  heavily  upon  him,  and  he  assumed  a 
wearied  and  broken-down  aspect.  Labour  which 
before  sat  lightly  on  him,  was  now  exhausting  toil, 
and  an  increasing  sense  of  depression  weighed  on  his 
spirits.  The  most  ominous  and  distressing  symptom 
was  the  restlessness  which  he  experienced  whenever 
he  retired  for  the  night,  and  which  prevented  him 
enjoying  sleep  for  more  than  a  quarter  of  an  hour 
at  a  time.  Though  happily  unaccompanied  by  pain, 
this  usually  lasted  till  morning,  and  became  so  trying, 
that  in  order  to  humour  it  he  generally  passed  the 
night  on  the  sofa  in  his  dressing-room.  A  volume 
of  Alison's  'History  of  Enrojie '  and  Gurwood's 
'  Sketches '  lay  on  the  mantel-piece,  and  the  long 
hours,  broken  by  brief  snatches  of  sleep,  were  spent 
in  reading  the  accounts  of  campaigns  and  battles.* 
About  seven  in  the  muruing  ho  would  return  to  his 

*  This  kind  of  reading  had  always  i.  pocnliar  charm  for  hini,  so  that 
not  unfroqueutly  after  a  day  of  unusually  hard  mental  work,  ])reath- 
ing  or  otheiwise,  he  wouhl  liavo  recourse  to  Alison's  '  History,'  or 
'  \Vellin>:ton's  Di,si)atehcs,'  ^nd  find  rtfrc-hmi  at  in  giving  entire 
cliuuite  of  thought. 


1871 — 7^*  3^1 

room,  and  after  an  hour  or  Iavo  of  refreshing  slumber 
enter  on  the  hard  toil  of  the  day. 

He  devoted  much  time  during  this  winter  to  his 
pulpit,  writing  all  his  sermons  fully  out,  and  preach- 
ing not  only  with  great  delight  to  himself,  but  in  a 
manner  so  instructive  to  his  people  that  they  look  back 
to  the  teaching  of  these  later  months  as  more  precious 
than  any  they  ever  received  from  him. 

He  went  to  London  in  February,  on  the  occasion 
of  the  public  thanksgiving  in  St.  Paul's,  for  the 
recovery  of  the  Prince  of  Wales.  The  gathering  of 
the  representatives  of  the  British  empire  for  such  a 
purpose,  the  imposing  ceremony,  the  spectacle  of  the 
vast  cathedral  filled  with  its  ten  thousand  worshippers, 
the  music,  the  dignified  service,  all  combined  to  im- 
press him  deeply.  'I  thank  God,'  he  said  to  his 
brother  who  sat  beside  him,  '  for  a  IS^ational  Church, 
without  which  we  could  not  have  such  an  expression 
of  the  national  religion.  It  is  all  worthy  and  right. 
We  could  not  do  this  in  Scotland.  Our  Presby- 
terianism  is  too  individual  in  its  methods, — healthy 
enough  as  bringing  the  soul  to  deal  with  the  personal 
God,  but  there  should  be  room  in  a  Church,  which 
professes  to  be  national  and  historic,  for  such  a  service 
as  this.'  One  feature  in  the  assembly  deeply  affected 
him.  There  were  near  him  a  number  of  Orientals, 
Parsees,  Hindoos,  and  Mahommedans,  whose  pre- 
sence touched  a  sympathetic  chord  in  his  heart. 
In  his  speech  to  the  General  Assembly  three 
months  afterwards,  he  alluded  to  the  impression  that 
scene  had  made  on  him.  '  When  these  men,'  he 
said,   '  some   of  them   representatives    of    sovereigns 


36*  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

who  once  occupied  the  thrones  of  India,  beheld  the 
assembly,  ■\vhieh,  take  it  all  in  all,  was  one  of  the 
most  remarkable  ever  gathered, — when  they  beheld 
the  Queen  who  now  ruled  over  them,  the  legislature 
of  Britain,  old  warriors  covered  with  medals  won  in 
man)''  a  hard-fought  battle  in  their  own  India,  men  of 
philosophy  and  science,  men  who  had  governed  pro- 
vinces far  greater  than  England, — all  bowing  down 
in  worship,  and  when  they  heard  like  a  mighty  breeze 
the  prayer  whispered  from  these  ten  thousand  lips, 
*  Our  Father  which  art  in  heaven ; '  ^\hat  if  one 
of  these  Easterns  had  risen  and  said,  '  You  have 
sent  us  laws,  men  of  science,  and  warriors,  but  have 
never  told  us  of  that  Father  to  wliom  you  pray  ! ' 
Could  that  be  said  in  truth,  then  might  a  greater 
assembly  still  be  summoned  to  ask  God's  mercy  on  a 
nation  that  had  been  so  unfaithful.' 

The  Scotchmen  settled  in  Liverpool  lu^d  always 
shown  him  aiiection,  which  was  quite  reciprocated 
by  him,  and  as  his  eldest  son  was  now  there 
learning  business,  he  determined  on  his  way  home  from 
London  to  visit  him,  and  beg  for  funds  for  his  beloved 
India  Mission.  His  method  of  approaching  some  of 
the  merchants  of  the  town  greatly  amused  them.  '  If 
you  treat  me  in  Liverpool  as  well  as  I  see  you  treat 
dogs  I  will  be  content,'  he  said  to  one  of  them  ;  and 
in  answer  to  the  puzzled  look  of  inquiry,  he  added, 
'Merely  that  I  noticed  how  a  dog  had  carried  otf 
hundreds  of  pounds  at  a  coursing  match,  and  I 
think  I  am  as  good  as  a  dog  any  day.' 


1871 — 72*  3^3 

To  Geokge  Campbell,  Esq. : — 

Beoadgreen,  LivERrooL,  Fehrimnj,  1872. 

"  Thanks  for  your  £50.  I  will  toll  you  a  story — a  rare 
tiling  with  me.  The  beadle  and  gravedigger  of  Kilwin- 
ning parish,  Ayrshire,  was  dying.  One  day  his  minister 
found  him  very  sad,  and  on  questioning  him  as  to  the  cause 
of  this  unusual  depression,  he  said,  '  I  was  just  countin' 
That  since  the  new  year  I  had  buried  fifty  folk,  includin' 
])airns,  and  I  was  hopefu'  that  I  might  be  spared  to  mak' 
oot  the  hunner  (hundred)  afore  the  neist  new  year.' 

"  l)o  you  see  ?  That  heart  of  yours  is,  I  guess,  even 
bigger  than  your  purse.      May  both  be  bigger,  if  possible ! 

"  I  am  trembling  betwixt  hope  and  fear  for  my  Indian 
ark." 

On  liis  way  to  Liverpool  lie  received  the  tidings  of 
tlie  death  of  the  man  whom  of  all  others  he  reve- 
renced and  loved,  Dr.  John  Macleod  Campbell. 
]3uring  the  few  previous  months  he  had  seen  one 
after  another  of  his  friends  pass  away.  Erskine  of 
Linlathen  and  Maurice  had  just  entered  into  their 
rest,  and  now  Campbell,  to  him  the  greatest  and  best 
of  all,  had  followed. 

During  the  same  month  he  visited  St.  Andrew's  for 
the  purpose  of  urging  the  claims  of  the  Mission,  and 
appealing  to  the  students  of  the  University  for  volun- 
teers to  go  to  India  as  missionaries.  '  We  were  all 
struck,'  Principal  Shairp  writes,  '  by  his  worn  and 
flaccid  look ;  he  seemed  so  oppressed  and  nervous 
when  he  was  going  to  address  only  a  few  hundred 
people  in  our  small  university  chapel;  and  I  well 
remember  the  close  of  that  address.  After  describing 
very  clearly  and  very  calmly  the  state  of  the  Mission 
and  its  weakness  for  want  of  both  fit  men  and  sufiicient 


364  JJFE  OF  x\ORMAN  MACLEOD. 

funds,  his  last  words  were,  '  If  by  the  time  next 
General  Assembly  arrives  neither  of  those  are  forth- 
coming, tliere  is  one  'who  wishes  he  may  find  a 
grave  ! '  That  was  his  last  word,  and  it  icll  like  a 
kncil  on  my  heart  and  on  many  more.  So  infirm 
was  he  that  day,  that  though  the  college  church  is 
scarcely  a  hundred  yards  from  ou  house,  he  had  to  be 
driven  both  tliere  and  back  ! ' 


From  his  Journal  : — 

"  March  1. — What  events  of  importance  or  interest  to 
myself  have  been  crowded  into  the  mouths  and  days  which 
have  passed  since  these  last  Avords  have  heen  written ! 
The  Thanksgivmg  for  the  dear  Queen  and  Prince  this 
week  in  London — the  grandest  thing,  morally,  I  have  ever 
witnessed  or  can  witness  ;  and  the  death  of  my  best  of 
friends,  and  of  the  best  man  I  have  ever  known  on  earth 
or  can  know — my  own  John  Campbell  ! 

"  This  last  implies  worlds  to  me  as  affecting  my  inner 
life.  I  mioht  have  added  to  it  the  crisis  of  the  Indian 
Mission  ;  yet  I  am  so  wearied  in  body  and  soul  this  night, 
that  I  cannot  Avrite  about  them,  yet  cannot  be  silent, 
but  must  mark  this  point  and  transition  between  my  past 
and  future,  in  which  I  am  involved  as  a  minister,  a 
citizen,  and  a  friend.  Oh  my  dear,  dear  John  !  I  left 
thee  to-day  in  thy  grave,  and  the  world  can  never  more  he 
the  same  to  me.  Thy  light,  shining  through  an  earthly 
tabernacle,  is  gone  ;  my  staff  is  departed  ;  the  arm  on 
which  I  leant  is  in  the  grave  ;  and  my  best  and  truest 
of  friends  is  dead  !  Oh,  how  I  loved  him  and  adored  him 
on  this  side  of  idolatry  !  He  was  my  St.  Paul.  No  words 
of  mine  can  express  my  love  to  him.  I  took  part  with 
Story  in  the  service  ;  I  lowered  him  to  liis  grave  ;  I 
cannot  preach  about  him  to-morrow  ;  I  hope  to  do  so  next 
Sunday.      Till  then,  all  things  else  depart." 


187I ']2-  363 

To  Pnnoipal  Shaiep  : — 

Saturday,  March  16,  1872. 

"  My  dearest  John, 

"  More  dear  than  ever,  as  friend  after  friend  de- 
parts, and  as  we  feel  ourselves  every  year  like  the  remains 
of  an  old  Guard,  whose  comrades  have  almost  all  left  us — 
all  who  could  speak,  not  of  the  old  wars,  but  of  the  old  times 
of  joy  and  hope,  of  struggle  and  of  victory.  The  reason, 
perliaps,  why  I  have  not  written  to  you,  or  indeed  to  any 
one  who  was  one  with  me  in  devoted  love  to  beloved  John 
Campbell,  was  that  I  knew  we  had  the  same  feeling,  the 
same  sense  of  loss,  the  same  joy  in  his  gain,  the  same 
everything  !  I  heard  of  it  in  England.  It  was  a  sudden 
and  terrible  blow.  As  we  praised  God  in  St.  Paul's,  he,  a 
king  and  priest,  had  entered  into  the  joy  of  his  Lord  ; 
and  oh,  John,  what  joy  !  You  said  truly  to  me  that  if 
there  be  a  God,  we  as  men  are  alienated  from  Him,  and 
need  reconciliation  ;  and  I  add,  if  there  be  a  God — shock- 
ing '  if  even  to  speak  of — he  is  with  Him.  I  returned 
home  on  Friday,  and  was  in  time  for  his  funeral  on  Satur- 
day. I  took  part  in  the  services  along  with  Story,  and 
Avhat  that  was  to  me  you  will  understand,  as  I  prayed  in 
the  church,  near  the  head  of  his  coffin.  It  was  a  wet  and 
cold  day,  but  there  was  a  large  attendance  of  ministers, 
and  of  men  and  women,  who  loved  him  as  few  were  loved. 
Tuesday  I  spent  with  his  wife  and  family,  and  heard  all. 
Five  days  before  his  death,  when  very  cheerio,  he  wrote 
his  last  and  a  most  beautiful  letter  to  comfort  orphans. 
But  he  spoke  not  much  of  religion  when  dying.  His  silent 
death  w^as  like  his  life,  an  '  Amen'  to  God's  will. 

"  I  preached  a  funeral  sermon  for  him,  which  I  will 
publish,  that  his  dear  Lord  may  be  glorified  in  him,  even 
through  unworthy  me.  He  has  left  a  large  collection  of 
letters  ;  many  written  to  his  father  on  the  Mondays,  giving 
an  account  of  his  teaching  on  the  previous  Sundays  at 
Row  ;  many  to  his  brother  and  sister,  both  worthy  of 
him  ;  a  series  over  ten  years,  to  his  son,  on  general  sub- 
jects of  Christian  interest  ;  all  immensely  valuable.  Who 
will  edit  these  ?  I  know  not.  In  spite  of  my  dearest  wish, 
it  seems  impossible  that  a  man  so  poor  in  good  as  I  am 


366  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

should  he  called  upon  to  give  an  account  of  such  men  as 
our  two  heloved  Johns  !  But  the  treasure  is  often  com- 
mitted to  earthen  vessels,  that  the  power  might  be  seen  to 
be  of  God. 

"  My  lieart,  dear,  is  very  sore.  The  world  and  life  look 
awfully  serious  to  me.  I  feel  as  if  the  winding-up  were 
coming  soon,  and  I  have  a  depressing  sense,  of  Avhich  no 
one  but  God  can  judge,  of  a  miserably  improved  life.  IJut 
such  feelings  are  for  God,  more  than  for  man.  They  don't 
come  from  gout,  as  they  are  of  late  my  haV)it  ;  yet  I  sufler 
still  from  the  enemy.  God  is  my  oidy  light,  and  I  seek  to 
cast  the  burden  of  my  soul,  my  life,  my  fears,  my  all  on 
Him  ;  and  yet  my  very  faith  is  so  weak." 

The  sermon  which  he  preached  on  Dr.  Campbell 
Tvas  afterwards  published  in  another  form  in  Good 
Words.  The  privilege  and  responsibility  of  sjjeaking 
regarding  his  lamented  friend  were  so  keenly  realised 
by  him  that,  before  beginning,  he  wrote  on  the  fly-leaf 
of  his  manuscript  the  following  touching  prayer : — 

"  May  God  the  Father,  whose  glory  my  beloved  friend 
ever  sought,  teach  me,  a  miserable  sinner,  who  am  un- 
worthy to  speak  of  the  holy  ones  in  His  presence,  to  speak 
of  His  saint  in  glory  so  as  to  give  some  true  impression  of 
what  he  Avas  ;  that  Jesus,  who  was  and  is  his  '  all  in  all,' 
may  be  glorified  in  and  by  him  ;  and  that,  though  dead, 
he  may  speak  through  my  feeble  lips  !  I  begin  with  fear 
and  trembhng  ;  yet,  if  I  am  every  Sunday  called  upon  to 
speak  of  Jesus,  why  should  I  fear  to  speak  of  one  of  his 
holy  apostles  ?     God  help  me  in  His  mercy  !" 

Saturday,  March  9,  1872. 

Similar  prayers  are  of  frequent  occurrence  on  the 
first  or  last  pages  of  his  sermons,  and  there  are 
sometimes  brief  notices  of  the  events  in  his  oami  life 
wdiich  suggested  certain  lines  of  thought. 


CHAPTER  XXIV. 


HIS   DEATH. 


*  T  FEEL  as  if  the  winding-up  were  coming  soon,' 
-■-    he  wrote  to  Principal  Shairp,  with  little  anticipa- 
tion of  how  soon  his  words  were  to  be  realised. 

As  the  spring  wore  on,  the  sense  of  feebleness  and 
discomfort  continued  to  increase ;  but  his  family 
physician,  Professor  Andrew  Buchanan,  after  careful 
examination,  discovered,  at  that  time,  nothing  orga- 
nically wrong  with  his  heart  ;  and  believing  that  com- 
plete rest  and  freedom  from  anxiety  would  suflS.ce  to 
remove  his  ailments,  he  ordered  him  to  give  up  the 
India  Mission,  leave  his  town-house  and  reside  in  the 
country,  and,  in  short,  confine  his  duties  within  the 
narrowest  possible  circle.  Dr.  Macleod  at  once  acqui- 
esced in  these  arrangements,  and  for  a  time  found  some 
enjoyment  in  planning  a  cottage  which  he  thought  of 
building  on  the  slope  of  Campsie  Fell,  in  a  situation 
he  had  long  admired,  and  he  seemed  almost  happy  at 
the  prospect  of  renewing  his  early  love  of  country  life. 
The  other  direction  of  his  physician  made  a  greater 
demand  on  his  feelings.  He  did  not  hesitate  as  to 
relinquishing  the  India  Mission,  but  he  determined 
that  in  doing  so  he  would  express,  once  for  all,  the 


368  LIFE  OF  XOR.}rAX  MACLEOD. 

conclusions  lio  hnd  reached  regarding  the  niaiinor  in 
Avhich  Christian  work  in  India  ought  to  be  conducted. 
For  weeks  he  revolved  the  suV}jeet  in  his  mind ;  for 
weeks  it  jyissessed  his  thoughts  night  and  day  ;  and, 
whether  from  the  nature  of  the  views  he  felt  it  his 
duty  to  propound,  or  more  probably,  from  the  ex- 
aggerated colouring  which  weak  health  imparts  to 
coming  difficulties,  he  somehow  expected  that  his 
speech  was  to  provoke  a  violent  and  painful  discus- 
sion. These  anticipations,  natural  to  an  invalid, 
although  utterly  groundless,  had  the  effect  of  exciting 
his  shattered  nervous  system,  and  of  producing  an 
anxiety  and  agitation  which  told  with  fatal  elieet 
upon  him. 

When  he  rose  in  the  Assembly  to  address  a  house 
crowded  to  suffocation,  his  rapid  breathing  revealed 
the  strain  he  was  labouring  under.  He  had  written 
nothing  beforehand  except  a  few  jottings  on  the  fly- 
leaf of  tlie  Mission  Eeport ;  and  such  was  the  impas- 
sioned and  rapid  manner  in  which,  under  the  pressure 
of  his  convictions,  he  grappled  with  the  points  he 
wished  most  to  impress,  that  the  reporters  were  unable 
to  take  down  even  the  meaning  of'  a  great  part  of  the 
address  —  the  most  powerful  and  stirring  he  ever 
delivered.  The  speech  is  practically  lost.  Passages 
can  be  recalled ;  the  general  scope  can  be  sketched ; 
but  there  is  no  adequate  record  of  the  masterly 
handling  of  principles,  the  touches  of  kindly  humour, 
the  skill  with  which  he  conciliated  his  audience  while 
urging  views  calculated  to  offend  the  prejudices  of 
many,  the  ovei'powering  earnestness  ^ith  which  he 
defended  his  own  position  and  appealed  to  the  Church 


HIS  DEATH.  369 

for  a  generous  and  self- forgetful  policy  towards  India. 
Those  who  w^ere  present  may  retain  an  impression  of 
its  power,  but  the  speech  itself  has  perished. 

lie  had  been  labouring  for  years,  with  little  effect, 
to  induce  the  clergy  to  adopt  efficient  methods  of 
raisins:  funds,  and  had  discovered  how  difficult  it  is 
in  such  matters  to  combat  sloth,  prejudice,  power  of 
custom.  He  had  tried  also  to  make  the  Church 
realise  the  nature  and  difficulty  of  the  problems  with 
which  her  Mission  had  to  deal,  only  to  find,  how- 
ever, that  many  good  people  Avithheld  their  sym- 
pathy, eyed  with  suspicion  the  education  policy  which 
formed  an  essential  part  of  the  Mission  system,  and 
cared  little  for  any  results  except  such  as  took  the 
form  of  individual  conversion.     He  deeply  felt  that — 

"  There  Avas  a  sort  of  feeling  of  uneasiness  and  discon- 
tent throughout  the  Church  in  reference  to  his  conduct  of 
the  Mission,  as  if  they  said,  'The  Mission  is  excellent; 
God  bless  the  Mission  ;  let  us  support  it  ;  but — '  and 
there  was  a  groan  or  a  sigh,  a  something  he  could  not  get 
at.  It  needed  no  power  but  that  of  thoughtlessness  to 
destroy,  but  they  nuist  remember  how  difficult  it  is  to 
restore.  Any  man  could  set  a  great  builcUng  on  fire  ;  and  a 
single  word,  or  the  shake  of  the  head  of  a  man  in  authority, 
might  be  very  destructive  to  the  work  of  the  Committee. 
Did  they  realise,"  he  asked,  "  what  they  expected 
the  Hindoos  to  do,  what  they  blamed  them  for  not  doing, 
or  compared  these  expectations  with  what  they  were  doing 
themselves  at  home  ?  They  were  asking  Hindoos,  men  of 
flesh  and  blood  like  themselves,  and  far  more  sensitive 
than  Scotchmen,  of  great  intelligence  and  culture,  to  give 
up  hoary  traditions,  to  cut  down  the  tree  of  that  religion 
under  which  they  and  their  fathers  had  sat  for  teeming 
centuries,  and  to  accept  the  religion  of  a  people  whose  very 
touch   was   pollution !     They  were   asking   these   men   in 

VOL.    II.  P   B 


370  LIFE  OF  NORM  AX  MACLEOD. 

many  cases  to  give  up  father  and  mother,  and  brother  and 
sister,  and  were  much  astonished  they  did  not  make  the 
sacrifice  !  But  su[)[)Ose  the  Hin<loos,  wiio  were  observing 
and  intelHgcnt,  were  to  turn  on  themselves  and  say,  '  You 
are  sending  us  Christianity,  to  beheve  which  imphes  enor- 
mous sacrifices  on  our  part,  but  what  are  j'our  own  clergy 
doing  ?  You  are  asking  us  to  sacrifice  all  our  traditions, 
but  you  won't  sacrifice  the  custom  in  3'our  parishes  that 
has  been  brought  in  by  your  venerable  predecessors  ! 
What  do  you  give  for  the  salvation  of  souls  ?  A  pound  or  a 
penny,  or,  as  is  the  case  in  one  hundred  and  seventy  of 
your  churches,  nothing  at  all  ?  You  call  us  deceivers  ; 
but  we  take  you  by  a})pearances,  and  ask  3'^ou  to  let  us  see 
what  Christianity  is  in  yourselves  before  you  come  to  us.' 
....  He  had  yet  to  learn  that  it  was  the  work  of  the 
Foreign  Mission  to  make  converts.  He  had  ahvays  under- 
stood that  the  conversion  of  souls  was  in  the  hand  of  God. 
He  was  not  speaking  lightly  of  conversion — far  from  it  ; 
but  their  responsibility  as  a  Church  was  to  use  the  best 
means  for  converting,  and  to  implore  God's  grace  on  the 
means.  But  he  would  ask  those  who  judge  the  Mission 
by  the  number  of  converts,  to  find  out  how  many  conver- 
sions had  taken  place  in  their  own  parishes  during  the 
same  time.  Let  them  go  down  to  the  village,  and  enter- 
ing a  house,  say  they  will  not  leave  it  till  they  bring  the 
men  and  women  to  Christ.  Let  them  go  to  the  man  of 
science,  who  had  mastered  many  of  the  questions  of  the 
day ;  let  them  not  call  him  proud,  or  sneer  at  him  as  a 
'  natural  man,'  for  he  may  be  most  earnest,  and  may  be 
sweating  a  more  bloody  sweat  in  seeking  to  come  to  the 
truth  than  they  had  done  ;  let  them  go  to  that  man  and 
satisfy  his  doubts,  meet  him  fiiirly  before  God,  and  when 
the}'  returned  from  such  a  visitation  as  that,  they  would 
have  more  sympath}'^  with  missionaries  dealing  with  edu- 
cated heathens." 

The  chief  purpose  of  his  speech,  however,  took 
wider  ground.  He  desired  all  Churches  to  consider 
whether  the  forms  in  which  they  were  presenting  truth, 


HIS  DEATH.  371 

and  the  ecclesiastical  differences  they  were  exporting 
to  India,  were  the  best  means  for  ChristiaDizing  that 
country.  Was  it  right  that  the  divisions  which  sepa- 
rated Churches  in  this  country,  and  whicdi  were  the 
growth  of  their  special  histories,  should  not  only  be 
continued,  but  be  made  as  great  matters  of  principle 
in  India  as  in  England  or  Scotland  ? 

"  When  these  Hindoos  heard  an  Anglican  bishop  declare 
that  he  did  not  recognise  as  belonging  to  Christ's  Church 
congregations  of  faithful  men  holding  a  pure  gospel  and 
observing  the  sacraments  of  the  Lord  ;  when  they  met 
others  who  said,  '  You  must  accept  all  these  Calvinistic 
doctrines  ;'  and  when  the  Wesleyans  came  next  and  said, 
'  God  forbid !  don't  bring  these  things  in  ;'  and  the 
Baptist  came  with  his  idolatry  of  sacrament,  saying,  '  You 
must  be  a  Baptist,  you  must  be  dipped  again  ;'  and  when 
the  Roman  Catholic  came  and  said,  '  You  are  all  wrong 
together;'  is  it  any  wonder  that  the  Hindoo,  pressed  on 
every  side  by  different  forms  of  Western  Christianity, 
should  say,  '  Gentlemen,  I  thank  you  for  the  good  you 
have  done  me,  but  as  I  am  sore  perplexed  by  you  all,  take 
yourselves  off,  leave  me  alone  with  God,  then  I  will  be 
fairly  dealt  with.'  It  was  a  positive  shame — it  was  a  disgrace 
— that  they  should  take  with  them  to  India  the  differences 
that  separated  them  a  few  yards  from  their  brethren  in 
this  country.  Is  it  not  monstrous  to  make  the  man  they 
ordained  on  the  banks  of  the  Gano-es  siiyn  the  Westminster 
Confession  of  the  Church  of  Scotland  or  the  Deed  of 
Demission  and  Protest  of  the  Free  Church  ?  Was  that 
the  wisest,  was  it  the  Christian  way  of  dealing  with 
Hindoos  ?  .  .  .  .  And  were  they  presenting  the  truth  to 
the  native  mind  in  the  form  best  fitted  for  his  require- 
ments ?  The  doctrines  of  their  Confessions  might  be  true 
in  themselves,  but  the  Confession  was  a  document  closely 
connected  with  the  historical  development  and  with  the 
metaphysical  temperament  of  the  people  who  had  accepted 
it,  and  might  not  be  equally  suitable  for  those  who  had 

B  B  2 


37 »  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

not  the  same  traditions  and  tendencies.  Was  it  neces<?ary 
to  give  these  minute  and  abstract  statements  to  Orientals 
whose  habits  of  mind  and  spiritual  affinities  might  lay  better 
hold  on  other  aspects  of  divine  truth,  and  who  might  mould 
a  theology  for  themselves,  not  less  Christian,  but  which 
woukl  be  Indian,  and  not  EngHsh  or  Scotch  ?  The  block 
of  ice,  clear  and  cold,  the  beautiful  jiroductof  our  northern 
climes,  will  at  the  slighcst  touch  freeze  the  warm  lips  of 
the  Hindoo.  Why  insist  that  he  must  take  that  or 
nothing  ?  Would  it  not  be  better  to  let  the  stream  flow 
freely  that  the  Eastern  may  quench  his  thirst  at  will  from 
God's  own  water  of  life  ?  Would  it  not  be  possible 
for  the  Evangelical  Churches  to  drop  their  peculiarities, 
and  in  the  unselfishness  of  the  common  faith  construct  a 
Primer,  or  make  the  Apostles'  Creed  their  symbol,  and 
say,  '  This  is  not  all  you  are  going  to  learn,  but  if  3'ou 
receive  this  truth  and  be  strono:  in  the  fuith,  we  will 
'  receive  you  so  walking,  but  not  to  doubtful  disputations  ; 
and,  if  in  anything  ye  be  otherwise  minded,  God  will 
reveal  even  this  unto  you  ?'  '  And  they  should  make 
known  the  truth  not  only  by  books  but  by  livmg  men. 
Send  them  the  missionary.  Let  him  be  a  man  who  embodies 
Christianit}'^  ;  and  if  he  were  asked,  '  What  is  a  Christian  ?' 
he  could  answer,  '  I  am  ;  I  know  and  love  Christ,  and  wish 
you  to  know  Him  and  love  Him  too.'  That  man  in  his 
justice,  generosity,  love,  self-sacrifice,  would  make  the 
Hindoo  feel  that  he  had  a  brother  given  him  by  a  common 
Father.  Let  them  prepare  the  Hindoos  to  form  a  Church 
for  themselves.  Give  them  the  gunpowder,  and  they  will 
make  their  own  cannon." 

"Wliile  advocating  those  catholic  aims,  ho  did  not 
forget  that  sj)irit  of  ecclcsiasticisni,  and  those  preju- 
dices and  bigotries  he  was  oficuding.  He  rose  into 
indignant  remonstrance  as  he  thought  of  how  India 
might  possibly  be  sacrificed  to  the  timidity  of  some  of 
the  clergy  afraid  to  speak  out  their  thoughts,  or,  still 
worse,  to  the  policy  of  others  who,   in  the   critical 


HIS  DEATH.  373 

position  of  the  Churcli  at  home,  were  cautious  not 
to  verify  the  accusations  of  hxtitudinarianism  made 
against  her  by  interested  opponents. 

"  You  must  take  care  lest  by  insisting  on  the  minutiie 
of  doctrine  or  government  you  are  not  raising  a  barrier  to 
the  advances  of  Christianity.  You  must  take  heed  lest 
things  infinitesimally  small  as  compared  with  the  great 
world,  may  not  be  kept  so  near  the  eye  as  to  conceal  the 
whole  world  from  you.  A  man  may  so  wrap  a  miserable 
partisan  newspaper  round  his  head  as  to  shut  out  the  sun, 
moon,  and  stars.  You  must  take  care  that  your  Cairns  do 
not  stand  so  near  as  to  shut  out  Calcutta,  and  the  Watch- 
word make  you  so  tremble  for  petty  consequences  at  home 
that  all  India  is  forgotten  by  you.  I  am  not  speaking  for 
myself  alone,"  he  added,  "for  I  know  how  these  difficulties 
press  upon  many  a  missionary — and  remember  how  more 
than  one  has  taken  my  hand,  and  said  Ave  dare  not  speak 
out  on  these  things,  lest  our  own  names  be  blasted,  our- 
selves rej)resented  as  unsafe,  and  all  home-confidence  be 
removed  from  us.  But  why  should  they  be  afraid  of  such 
reproach  ?  Why  should  I  be  afraid  of  it  ?  Am  I  to  be 
silent  lest  I  should  be  whispered  about,  or  suspected,  or 
called  'dangerous,'  'broad,'  '  latitudinarian,'  'atheistic?' 
So  long  as  I  have  a  good  conscience  towards  God,  and 
have  His  sun  to  shine  on  me,  and  can  henr  the  birds 
singing,  I  can  Avalk  across  the  earth  with  a  joyful  and  free 
heart.  Let  them  call  me  '  broad.'  I  desire  to  be  broad 
as  the  charity  of  Almighty  God,  Avho  maketh  His  sun  to 
shine  on  the  evil  and  the  good  ;  who  hateth  no  man,  and 
who  loveth  the  poorest  Hindoo  more  than  all  their  com- 
mittees or  all  their  Churches.  But  while  I  long  for  that 
breadth  of  charity,  I  desire  to  be  narrow — narrow  as 
God's  righteousness,  which  as  a  sharp  sword  can  separate 
between  eternal  right  and  eternal  wronir." 

!No  one  then  present  can  forget  the  thrilling  power, 
the  manly  bearing,  the  intensity  of  suppressed  feel- 
ing, with  which  these  words  were  uttered. 


374  J-^I'f''    OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD 

In  a  few  following  sentences  he  explained  how  he 
was  compelled  to  relinquish  all  public  work  f(jr  tlic 
future,  thanked  his  brethren  for  the  kindness  he  had 
received  from  them,  and  bidding  farewell  to  the 
Church  he  had  served  with  life -long  affection,  he 
ended  in  accents  broken  with  emotion,  'If  I  forget 
thee,  0  Jerusalem,  let  my  right  hand  forget  her 
cunning — if  I  prefer  not  Jerusalem  above  my  chief 

joy-' 

It  was  a  last  and  fatal  effort.  The  hearts  of  many 
present  trembled  for  him  as  they  Avatched  the  unnatural 
flush  upon  his  cheeks,  and  marked  the  expenditure  of 
energy  the  exertion  cost  him.  To  more  than  one  of 
those  whose  eye  wistfully  followed  him,  as  he  left  the 
house,  the  sad  foreboding  came  that  it  was  their  last 
look  of  him. 

"  I  was  so  glad,"  cue  writes,  "  I  heard  that  mcagiiifieent 
oration.  When  it  was  over,  I  bowed  my  head  in  my  bunds, 
wishing  to  shut  out  everything  but  the  solemn  thoughts 
sucli  words  had  conjured  up.  I  felt  how  much  too  f^ieat  the 
exertion  had  been  for  him.  I  took  a  long  last  look  at  him 
before  I  left — the  conviction  being  somehow  strung  upon 
me  that  with  my  mortal  eyes  I  should  never  see  him  again." 

For  the  next  few  days  he  complained  of  uneasiness 
and  unaccountable  depression  of  spirits,  but  was  able 
to  preach  in  his  own  church  on  the  afternoon  of  the 
following  Lord's-day.  It  was  his  last  sermon,  and 
on  the  strikingly  appropriate  subject,  '  We  have  for- 
saken all,  and  followed  Thee;  what  shall  we  have, 
therefore  ?'  A  sheet  of  note-paper  contains  all  he  had 
written  beforehand,  but  it  is  enough  to  show  that  his 
last  counsels  to  his  people  were  strangely  in  harmony 
with  the  situation.     His  theme  was  the  way  'ui  which 


HIS  DEATH.  375 

Clirist  educated  His  disciples,  and  he  urged  upon  his 
hearers  the  truth  that  if  they  were  willing  to  accept 
His  guidance  every  day,  they  would  at  last  be  pre- 
pared cheerfully  to  surrender  life  and  all  into  His 
hands. 

]^ext  day,  the  3rd  of  -June,  he  was  to  enter  his 
sixty-first  year,  and  he  had  such  a  strong  desire  to  have 
all  his  family  with  him  on  this  birthday,  that  he 
brought  his  aged  mother  from  the  country  and  asked 
leave  for  his  son  to  come  from  Liverpool.  There  was 
no  foreboding  in  all  this  of  immediate  dnuger.  He 
said  and  did  some  things  which  afterwards  seemed  to 
indicate  a  feeling  of  a[)proaching  death.  When  at 
I'alinoral  the  previous  we.  k  he  spoke  to  more  than 
one  of  its  being  his  last  visit,  and  in  some  of  his  letters 
there  were  expressions  so  solemn  as  to  have  startled 
the  friends  who  received  them.  But  he  did  not  really 
think  that  his  end  was  so  near.  A  great  sadness 
weighed  on  him,  a  weariness  of  the  noise  and  dis- 
j)utings  of  men,  of  '  the  burden  and  the  mv  stery '  of 
life ;  and  out  of  this  arose  a  more  childlike  clinging 
to  Christ  and  to  the  love  and  goodness  of  God. 
J)ceply  affected  by  the  disturbed  condition  of  opinion 
in  the  world  and  the  Church,  he  cherished  only  a 
fuller  confidence  in  order  finally  coming  out  of  dis- 
order ;  and  feeling  his  own  life-work  was  over,  he 
entered  the  more  keenly  into  speculations  as  to  the 
character  of  the  life  beyond  the  grave.  The  future 
state,  the  society,  occupations  and  joy  of  the  blessed 
dead,  had  been  a  favourite  theme  with  him  for  many 
years,  but  during  the  last  few  days  of  his  life,  it 
seemed  to  engross  his  thoughts.     No  friend  could  be 


376  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

Avitli  liim  for  man}'  miuutes  without  liis  reverting  to 
it.  Under  the  influence  of  the  same  feelings  he  spoke 
of  liis  death.  '  My  father  often  took  me  at  that  time 
to  drive  with  him,'  writes  one  of  his  daughters.  '  lie 
talked,  or  rather  thought  aloud,  almost  always  about 
death  and  dying — the  dread  every  one  has  of  the  act 
of  dying ;  and  how  iiu'i-eiful  it  was,  tliat  though  a 
man  in  health  fears  death,  yet  when  he  is  weakened 
by  disease,  he  is  indiifei-ent  to  its  terror ;  '  above  all, 
what  a  comfort  it  is  to  know  that  the  Man  Christ  Jesus 
died!'  On  the  Friday  after  he  was  taken  ill,  I  was 
sitting  on  his  bed  hearing  how  he  was,  and  he  said, 
'How  dreadful  it  would  b(^  if  a  God  of  hate  ruled  the 
world;  how  he  could  toiture  us!  For  instance,  he 
could  make  us  die  more  than  once,  and  each  death 
become  a  dreadful  experience.  Let  us  thank  God  for 
His  love.  After  all,'  he  added  after  a  pause,  '  death  is 
a  wrong  name  for  it — it  is  birth  into  the  true  life.' 

The  greater  part  of  Monday,  3rd  June,  was  spent 
by  him  alone  in  the  outside  study.  He  passed  the  day 
chiefly  in  writing  letters  to  valued  friends  and  in  quiet 
meditation.  One  of  his  aunts  found  him  reading 
the  seventy-first  psalm,  and  he  at  once  made  it  the 
groundwork  of  one  of  those  out-pourings  of  his  deepest, 
most  inward  experiences  which  none  who  ever  heard 
them  can  forget.  In  the  evening  all  his  family  were 
gathered  round  his  table. 

From  his  Journai,  : — 

"  Jim^  2. — To-morrow,  if  I  live,  I  am  sixty.  I  enter 
on  the  last  docade  allotted  to  num.  I  cannot  take  it  in. 
In  one   sense  I  ain  young  in  heart.      I    dream,  as  I  have; 


HIS  DEATH.  377 

alas  !  done  for  many  a  year,  of  what  I  may,  or  might  do — • 
in  literature,  in  practical  work,  in  many  a  thing.  While  I 
dream  life  passes,  powers  fail,  and  I  feel  as  one  who  had 
done  nothing:,  and  know  that  I  have  done  little  in  com- 
parison  with  what  I  could  have  done,  had  I  only  been 
self-denying  and  diligent  in  college  and  in  riper  years. 
I  confess  with  shame  my  off-putting,  my  want  of  pains- 
taking and  earnestness  in  mastering  difficulties  and  details, 
my  indolence,  and  selfishness,  and  want  of  principle,  in  not 
attending  each  day,  from  youth  upwards,  in  doing,  to  the 
best  of  my  ability,  that  one  work,  whether  of  mastering 
a  lesson  or  anything  else,  given  me  to  do.  It  is  no  com- 
fort to  tell  me  what  I  have  done,  for  it  is  false  comfort. 
I  feel  it  truer  to  confess  what  I  have  not  done,  what  I 
ouofht  to  have  done,  wdiat  I  could  have  done,  and  which 
being  left  undone  has  been  a  felt,  real,  and  shameful  loss 
to  me  all  my  hfe.  Whatever  a  man's  natural  talent  may 
be,  whatever  success  he  has  had  in  rhe  world,  whatever 
good  he  has  accomplished,  it  yet  remains  true  that  he 
would  have  been  better,  wiser,  more  infiuential,  and  glori- 
fied God  far  more  if  he  had  been  a  careful,  accurate,  dili'^'ent 
scholar  at  school  and  college,  and  acquired  those  habits  of 
study,  that  foundation  of  knowledge,  without  which  talent 
is  stunted,  and  genius  itself  is  very  far  from  accomplishing 
that  which  it  otherwise  could  do.  God  blesses  the  self- 
sacrifice  of  study,  and  that  I  never  had  in  my  youth,  and 
for  that  I  have  suffered,  and  more  especially  as  I  have  in 
later  years  become  fully  alive  to  its  importance.  Morally 
and  intellectually  I  am  a  dismasted  wreck,  praising  and 
blessing  God  if  I  get  into  the  harbour,  and  reverencing 
those  who  are  good  men,  because  they  have  been  all  their 
lives  dutiful. 

"  My  life  has  been  to  me  a  mystery  of  love.  I  know 
that  God's  education  of  each  man  is  in  perfect  righteous- 
ness. I  know  that  the  best  on  earth  have  been  the 
greatest  sufferers,  because  they  were  the  best,  and,  like 
gold,  could  stand  the  fire  and  be  purified  by  it.  I  know 
this,  and  a  great  deal  more,  and  yet  the  mercy  of  God  to 
me  is  such  a  mystery,  that  I  have  been  tempted  to  think 
that  I  was  utterly  unworthy  of  suffering. 


378  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

*'  God  have  mercy  on  my  thoughts !  I  may  be  ii!inV»lfl 
to  stand  suffering.  I  do  not  know.  But  I  lay  niyscll'  at 
Thy  feet  and  say — not  that  I  am  prepared — but  tliai  Tliou 
art  good,  and  wise,  and  wilt  picpare  me.  1  am  a  pour 
selfisli  creature, 

"  God  is  all  in  all. 

"  God  is  love.     Amen. 

"  The  doctors  tell  me  I  am  in  danger,  and  that  unless  I 
give  up  work  I  may  not  live.  I  have  been  ill  for  the  last 
sixteen  years.  The  doctors  tell  me  that  I  must  get  (pi it 
of  worry.  I  have,  by  their  command,  given  up  on  Thurs- 
day last  the  Convencrship  of  the  India  Mission.  I  feel  this. 
I  spoke  an  hour  and  a  half  on  the  subject,  but  the  rejjorts 
of  my  speech  are  fearful  ;  empty  of  all  I  said  that  is 
worth  anything,  full  of  horrors  and  absurdities  I  never 
said." 


To  Vrincital  Siiairp  : — 

SrdJime,  1872. 

"  I  am  three-score  years  to-day ! 

"John  dear,  I  cannot  speak  about  myself.  I  am  dumb 
with  thouuhts  that  cannot  be  uttered. 

"  The  doctors  tell  me  that  unless  by  rest  of  body  and 
mind  I  can  conquer  incipient  disease,  it  will  kill  me. 

"  So  I  am  obeying  to  the  best  of  my  ability. 

"  As  I  feel  time  so  rapidly  passing,  I  take  your  hand, 
dear  old  friend,  with  a  firmer  grip  ! 

"  I  have  many  friends  ;  few  old  ones  ! 

"  Oh  that  I  loved  my  oldest  and  truest,  my  Father  and 
Saviour,  better!  But  should  I  enter  heaven  as  a  forlorn 
ship,  dismasted,  and  a  mere  log — it  is  enough — for  I  will 
be  repaired. 

"  But  I  have  been  a  poor  concern,  and  have  no  peace 
but  in  God's  mercy  to  a  miserable  sinner. 

"  I  spoke  in  the  Assembly  on  India  Missions  for  an 
hour  and  a  half  I  will  probably  print  it.  It  is  my 
programme  for  India.      It  luiocked  me  up." 


HIS  DEATH.  37^ 

Ti)  Mrs.  Macnab  (Sister  of  Dr.  Macleod  Caiupbell) :  — 

Zrd  June.,  1SY2. 
3rd  June,  1812. 

"You  did  not  intend  it  to  be  a  birthday  gift  to  tlio 
child  3'ou  had  in  j^ovir  arms  sixty  years  ago  !  But  so  it  is, 
and  it  is  doubly  precious  as  a  pledge  of  a  love  that  h:is 
remained  ever  bright  for  three-score  years,  and  will  bo 
brighter  still  when  time  shall  be  no  more.  God  bless  you 
and  preserve  you  to  us  on  earth  !  I  am  dumb  with  a  sense 
of  awe,  and  full  of  thoughts  that  cannot  be  uttered.  My 
only  rest  in  thinking  of  the  past  and  in  anticipating  the 
future  is  in  the  one  thought  of  '  God  my  Father.' 

"  I  am  so  glad  you  would  like  me  to  republish  my 
sketch  of  dear  John  Campbell.  What  would  you  say  to 
putting  in  an  appendix  some  extracts  from  his  books, 
exj)ressive  of  his  leading  '  views  ? '  This  might  help  some 
souls  in  perplexity,  and  induce  them  to  read  his  books. 
They  would  be  of  use  in  India. 

"As  to  his  letters,  &c.,  no  one  felt  more  strongly  than 
John  Mackintosh  regarding  biogra[)hies.  The  only  thing 
which  induced  us  to  go  against  his  expressed  wishes  was 
the  conviction,  that  now  he  would  wish  to  do  whatever 
seemed  best  to  others,  whom  he  loved  and  trusted,  for  the 
glory  of  God.  And  surely  the  result  justified  us.  It 
seems  to  me  that  the  responsibility  of  not  permitting  men 
to  speak  when  dead  is  as  great  as  in  enabling  them  to  do 
so.  How  is  it  likely  they  would  judge  now  ?  is  a  question 
I  cannot  helj)  putting." 

I  To  Eev.  A.  Clerk,  wliose  son,  Duncan  Clerk,  was  then  dying : — 

June  3,  1872. 
"  It  is  very  solemn  and  very  affecting,  and  I  need  not 
say  how  deeply  we  sympathize  with  you.  Yet  there  is  but 
One  who  can  do  so  perfectly,  and  give  you  and  dear  Jessie 
faith  and  strength  at  this  terrible  crisis.  I  feel  how  im- 
possible it  is  to  convey  in  words  what  one  would  like  to 
say  at  such  a  time,  if  indeed  silence  does  not  best  express 
the  sense  of  darkness  and  oppression.  I  enter  to-day  my 
sixty-first  year,  and  have  my  mother  and  all   my  family 


38o  LIFE  OF  XORMAN  MACLEOD. 

around  me,  and  the  contrast  presented  between  my  house 
and  yours  makes  youraHHction  only  more  dark  and  solt.'inn. 
We  can  only  fall  back  on  God  to  deliver  me  from  a  slavish 
fear  of  coming  sorrows,  and  you,  my  dear  Archy,  from  a 
Avant  of  fiiitli  in  His  constant  and  deep  love  to  you  and 
yours.  AVliat  God  may  be  giving  you  in  this  form,  I  (hjii't 
know.  But  I  am  sure  He  is  giving.  Those  He  has  taken, 
and  seems  to  be  taking,  have  been  among  His  elect  ones  if 
any  such  there  be  on  earth.  A  finer  boy  than  Duncan 
could  not  be.  Every  one  loved  and  respected  him.  He 
was  a  girl  in  purity,  a  child  in  humility,  modesty,  and 
ol)edicncc.  Fit  for  Heaven  !  fit  to  join  his  sainted  sister 
and  brothers.  You  have  both  sent  precious  treasures  there 
to  be  your  own  riches  for  ever,  and  I  doubt  not  every  soul 
in  your  house  will  get  a  blessing.  A  holy  family  •  what 
an  awful  gift  from  God  !  I  don't  wish  to  speak  about  ray- 
self,  but  I  am  not  well.  The  doctors  have  discovered 
symptoms  so  serious  in  me  as  to  necessitate  my  getting 
rest  for  mind  and  body,  and  so  ward  otf  what  would  very 
soon  kill  me.  So  I  gave  up  the  India  Mission,  and  am 
trying  to  sell  my  house  in  town,  and  get  one  in  the 
country.  All  my  lameness,  weariness,  all  are  from  the 
same  cause.  I  am  utterly  unable  to  stand  fatigue,  and  I 
am  still  suffering  from  my  long  (one  hour  and  a  half) 
speech  and  probably  my  last  in  the  Assembly.  I  fear  to 
attempt  to  go  to  you,  as  I  believe  I  would  add  to  your 
trouble,  I  get  so  prostrate.  I  am  seriously  alarmed  for 
myself  and  can  see  no  escape  at  present." 


To  the  Marchioness  of  Ely  (then  Lady  in  Waiting  at  Balmoral) : — 

June  3rd,  1872. 

"Dear  Lady  Ely, 

"  Whether  it  is  that  my  head  is  empty  or  my 
heart  full,  or  that  both  conditions  are  realised  in  my 
experience,  the  fact,  however,  is  that  I  cannot  express 
myself  as  I  feel,  in  loplying  to  your  ladyship's  kind — far 
too  kind — note,  which  I  received  when  in  the  whirlwind, 
or  miasma  of  Assembly  business.  Thanks  deej)  and  true 
to  you  and  to  my  Sovereign  Lady  for  thinking  of  me.      I 


HIS  DEATH.  381 

spoke  for  nearly  two  hours  in  the  Assembly,  which  did 
no  good  to  me,  nor  I  fear  to  any  other !  I  was  able  to 
preach  yesterday.  As  I  have  got  nice  summer  quarters,  I 
hope  to  recruit,  so  as  to  cast  off  this  dull,  hopeless  sort  of 
feeling.  I  ought  to  be  a  happy,  thankful  man  to-day.  I 
am  to-day  sixty,  and  round  my  table  will  meet  my  mother, 
my  wife,  and  all  my  nine  children,  six  brothers  and  sisters, 
and  two  aunts — one  eighty-nine,  the  other  seventy-six, 
and  all  these  are  a  source  of  joy  and  thanksgiving.  Why 
such  mercies  to  me,  and  such  suffering  as  I  often  see  sent 
to  the  best  on  earth  ?  God  alone  knows.  I  don't.  But 
I  am  sure  He  always  acts  as  a  wise,  loving,  and  impartial 
Father  to  all  His  children.  What  we  know  not  now,  we 
shall  know  hereafter,  God  bless  the  Queen  for  all  her 
unwearied  goodness  !  I  admire  her  as  a  woman,  love  her 
as  a  friend,  and  reverence  her  as  a  Queen  ;  and  you  know 
that  what  I  say,  I  feel.  Her  courage,  patience,  and  en- 
durance are  marvellous  to  me." 


From  his  JouET^Aii — 

"  June  3. — I  am  this  day  three-score  years. 

"  The  Lord  is  mysterious  in  His  ways !  I  bless  and 
praise  Him, 

"I  commit  myself  and  my  all  into  His  loving  hands, 
feeling  the  high  improbability  of  such  a  birthday  as  this 
ever  being  repeated, 

"But  we  shall  be  united  after  the  last  birthday  into 
heaven. 

"  Glory  to  God,  for  His  mercy  towards  us  guilty  sinners, 
through  Jesus  Christ  His  Son,  my  Lord. 

"  I  preached  at  Balmoral  ('  Thy  Kingdom  come'),  on  the 
27th  May.  The  Queen,  as  usual,  very  kind.  As  she  noticed 
my  feebleness,  she  asked  me  to  be  seated  during  the  private 
interview.  When  last  at  Balmoral,  I  met  Forster  (the  Cabi- 
net Minister)  there.  He  and  Helps  and  I  had  great  argu- 
ments on  all  important  theological  questions  till  very  late, 
I  never  was  more  impressed  by  any  man,  as  deep,  inde- 
pendent, thoroughly  honest  and  sincere.  I  conceived  a 
great  love  for  him.     I  never  met  a  statesman  whom,  for 


3^2  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

high-minded  honosty  and  justice,  I  would  sooner  follow. 
He  will  be  Premier  some  day. 

"  Dear  Helps  !  man  of  men,  or  rather  brother  of  brothers. 

"  The  last  Assembly  has  been  the  most  reactionary  I  have 
ever  seen ;  all  because  Dr.  Cairns  and  others  have  attacked 
the  Church  for  her  latitudinarianism  !  The  lectures  of  Stanley 
have  aroused  the  wrath  of  the  Pharisees,  and  every  trembler 
wishes  to  prove  that  we  are  not  latitudinarian,  forsooth  !  If 
by  this  term  is  meant  any  want  of  faith  in  the  teaching  of 
Christ  and  His  apostles,  any  want  of  faith  in  the  Bible,  or 
in  the  supernatural,  or  in  Christ's  person  or  atonement 
(though  not  the  Cliurch  theory),  or  in  all  the  essentials  of 
the  faith  common  to  the  Church  catholic  ;  then  I  am  no 
latitudinarian.  But  if  by  this  is  meant  that  man's  con- 
science or  reason  (in  Coleridge's  sense)  is  not  the  ultimate 
judge  of  a  divine  revelation,  that  I  am  bound  to  stick  to 
the  letter  of  the  Confession,  and  to  believe,  for  exam[)le, 
that  all  mankind  are  damned  to  'excruciating  torments  in 
soul  and  body  for  all  eternity,'  because  of  Adam's  sin,  and 
the  original  corruption  springing  therefrom,  and  that  God 
has  sent  a  Saviour  for  a  select  few  only,  and  that  death 
determines  the  eternal  condition  of  all  men  ;  then,  thank 
God,  I  am  a  latitudinarian,  have  preached  it,  confessed  it, 
and  can  die  for  it !  Nothing  amazes  or  pains  me  more  than 
the  total  absence  of  all  pain,  all  anxiety,  all  sense  of  burden  or 
of  difficulty  among  nine-tenths  of  the  clergy  I  meet,  as  to 
questions  which  keep  other  men  sleepless.  Give  me  only 
a  man  who  knows,  who  feels,  who  takes  in,  however  feebly 
(like  myself),  the  life  and  death  problems  which  agitato  the 
best  (yes,  the  best)  and  most  thoughtful  auiong  clergy  and 
laity,  who  thinks  and  prays  about  them,  who  feels  the 
difficidties  which  exist,  who  has  faith  in  God  that  the 
right  will  come  right,  in  God's  way,  if  not  in  his,  I  am 
strengthened,  comforted,  and  feel  deeply  thankfid  to  be 
taught.  But  what  good  can  self-satisfted,  infallible  Ultra- 
montanes  do  for  a  poor,  weak,  perjjlexed  soul  ?  Nay,  what 
good  can  pup'piefi  do  who  may  accept  congenial  conclusions 
without  feeling  the  difficulties  by  which  they  are  surrounded  ? 
What  have  1  sutl'ered  and  endured  in  this  my  little  back 
study,   w'lieh   I   must  soon  li^ave  !      How  often  from   my 


HIS  DEATH.  383 

books  have  I  gazed  out  of  this  M'indow  before  me,  and 
found  strength  and  peace  in  the  Httle  bit  of  the  sky 
revealed,  Avith  its  big  cumuli  clouds,  its  far-away  cii-ri 
streaks,  and,  farther  still,  its  deep,  unfathomable  blue — -its 
infinite  depths  I  could  not  pierce  !  yet  seeing — in  the 
great  sunlight,  in  the  glory  of  cloudland,  in  the  peace  of 
the  sky — such  a  revelation  of  God  as  made  me  say,  '  The 
Lord  reigneth,  let  the  earth  rejoice  !' 

"  The  older  I  get  I  lind  more  and  more  teaching  from 
God's  revelation  in  nature. 

"  The  confusion  that  exists  at  this  moment,  and  Avhicli 
began  soon  after  the  war  of  '15,  and  is  as  eventful  as  the 
Reformation,  is  most  oppressive. 

'  Every  thing  is  sundering, 
And  every  one  is  wondering, 
As  this  huge  globe  goes  thundering 
On  for  ever  on.' 

"  On  the  one  hand,  there  is  a  breaking  up  of  the  old 
forms  of  thought  about  everything,  social,  political,  scien- 
tific, philosophic,  and  theological.  In  spite  of  much  fool- 
ish conceit  and  sense  of  power  on  the  part  of  those  who 
guide  the  battering-rams  against  the  old  walls,  there  is  on 
the  part  of  many  more,  a  great  sense  of  the  paramount  im- 
portance of  truth  and  duty  which,  if  j^iously  considered, 
would  but  express  faith  in  God,  Who  is  ever  on  the  side  of 
truth,  whether  Huxley,  Darwin,  or  any  other  express  it, 
albeit  Avithout  sympathy  for  the  speakers  unless  they  be 
truthful.  On  the  part  of  the  defenders  there  are  all  shades 
of  feeling.  Not  a  few  from  faith  in  God  and  Christ,  and 
in  the  verities  of  that  moral  and  spiritual  kingdom  which, 
having  in  themselves,  they  know  cannot  be  moved,  accept  of 
these  attacks,  not  as  from  real  enemies,  but  friends,  because 
beheving  that  Christianity  will  ever  be  found  far  ahead  of 
men,  will  soon  '  prepare  a  place  '  for  all  real  truth,  so  that 
wherever  Christ  is,  there  it  may  be  also.  But  others  are 
in  terror,  and  either  refuse  to  look  at  Avhat  professes  to  be 
truth  in  the  face,  and  only  call  its  professors  nick-names, 
or  try  the  Romish  Syllabus  dodge,  and  gather  into  clubs, 
hke  Jesuits,  and  in  vain,  by  assertion,  try  to  stop  thu 
movement. 


381.  JJFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

"  So  we  are  split  np  into  frafjinents,  and  while  Rome 
remains  Avholc, — in  its  blindness  swearing  there  is  no  light 
because  it  does  not  see  it,  and  cursing  all  eye-doctors  and 
spectacles. 

"  As  for  Scotland  !  The  Church  of  the  future  is  not 
here  !  We  ignore  great  world-questions.  We  squabble 
like  fish  women  over  skate  and  turbo  t. 

"  Where  is  the  germ  of  the  Church  of  the  future  ?  In 
what  Church?  In  what  creed  ?  In  what  forms  of  govern- 
ment ?  It  may  come  from  India,  as  the  first  came  from 
the  East.  But  all  our  old  forms  are  effete,  as  old  oaks, 
although  young  ones  may  grow  out  of  them.  Neither 
Calvinism,  nor  Presbyterianism,  nor  Thirty-nine  Articles, 
nor  High  Churchism,  nor  Low  Churchism,  nor  any  existing 
organization  can  be  the  Church  of  the  future  !  May  God 
give  us  patience  to  wait !  It  may  be  a  thousand,  or  three 
thousand  years  yet,  ere  it  comes,  but  come  it  will !  I 
do  not  think  any  Broad  Church  can  be  the  Church  yet ; 
it  wants  definiteness  to  meet  the  common  mind  of  rough 
humanity.  But  in  a  Church  it  can  modify  and  liberalise 
extremes,  witness  for  individuality  against  any  extreme 
views  of  the  body,  and  so  help  to  an  ultimate  solu- 
tion of  the  problem  between  the  individual  and  the 
Church.  I  shall  see  it  from  the  other  side  ;  but  not 
from  this. 

"  I  resigned  the  Convenership  of  the  India  Mission  as  I 
have  said.  I  made  a  long  speech  not  reported.  Dear 
Watson  has  been  rejected  as  Convener.  Herdman  appointed. 
This  is  of  interest  merely  as  showing  the  contest  between 
the  parties  in  the  Church.  These  are  the  Ultra-Evan- 
gelical and  the  Liberal 

Thus  ends  the  journal  he  kept  so  faithfully  through 
his  busy  life. 

On  the  same  day  his  birthday  festival  was  held  with 
a  joy  that  was  shadowed  by  haunting  fears  of  coming 
change.  His  worn  and  shattered  aspect,  and  his  sad, 
tender  bearing,  suggested  painful  forebodings  to  those 


HIS  DEATH.  38s 

who  loved  him,  and  who  could  scarcely  refrain  from 
showing  their  anxiety. 

On  the  following  Thursday  he  took  his  mother 
and  aunt  for  a  drive  in  an  open  carriage.  The 
day  was  treacherous,  and,  before  they  returned,  the 
bright  sunshine,  which  had  tempted  them  to  go 
out,  departed,  and  a  piercing  east  wind  came  on. 
In  his  anxiety  for  his  delicate  aunt  he  wrapped 
his  own  plaid  round  her,  and  exposed  himself  to  a 
chill,  which,  in  his  broken  condition  of  health,  proved 
fatal.  When  he  came  home  he  was  seized  with  a 
shiver,  followed  by  an  intense  pain  in  the  chest,  and 
for  the  next  few  days  experienced  extreme  suffering, 
combined  with  overpowering  attacks  of  sickness.  He 
spent  some  hours  that  evening  with  his  mother,  and 
aunts,  and  sister,  who  resided  a  few  doors  from  his 
own  house.  It  was  the  day  of  the  funeral  of  a 
favourite  nephew,  Duncan  Clerk,  and  partly  to  com- 
fort his  sorrowing  niece,  who  was  present,  as  well 
as  to  give  expression  to  thoughts  of  which  his  mind 
was  full,  he  talked  with  more  than  usual  power — 
almost  with  excitement — regarding  the  glorified  life 
of  those  who  had  departed  in  the  Lord.  He  recalled 
the  names  and  characters  of  deceased  relatives,  and 
described  the  joy  of  meeting  and  recognising  them. 
He  spoke  of  his  father,  of  James,  of  sisters  and 
uncles  who  were  dead,  and  of  John  Mackintosh ; 
and  when  one  of  the  party  chanced  to  allude  to 
their  departure  as  loss,  he  vehemently  remonstrated 
against  such  a  view.  '  Love  is  possession,  love  is 
possession,'  he  repeated  with  an  emphasis,  which  those 
who  listened  to  him  have  since  learned  to  apply  to 

VOL.    II.  c   c 


386  LIFE  OF  .WJ^MAX  MACLEOD. 

the  separation  tliey  feared,  but  the  imminence  of  which 
they  did  not  then  anticipate.  iJefore  parting  from  his 
mother  that  evening — the  last  they  were  to  si)end 
together  on  earth—  he  poured  out  his  soul  in  a  prayer 
which  melted  every  heart.  It  was  a  triumphant  thanks- 
giving to  God,  which  recalled  his  own  past  history, 
and  the  history  of  the  family,  revived  the  names  of 
many  dear  ones  who  had  entered  into  rest,  and 
concluded  with  a  glorious  profession  of  gratitude,  con- 
fidence, and  joy. 

His  restlessness  night  and  day  became  dreadful,  but 
as  the  symptoms  seemed  to  arise  from  indigestion,  for 
a  time  no  strong  measures  were  taken.  In  order 
to  alleviate  this,  and  to  give  him  greater  freedom, 
Mrs.  Macleod  removed  his  bed  to  the  drawing-room. 
The  pain  gradually  lessened,  but  his  strength  went 
visibly  down,  and  his  brother,  Professor  Macleod, 
who  had  been  out  of  town,  was,  on  his  return,  so 
much  struck  by  the  change  in  his  appearance,  tliat, 
though  not  anticipating  any  immediately  fatal  result, 
he  suspected  the  imminence  of  graver  comj)lieations. 
In  order  to  secure  complete  rest  for  him,  arrange- 
ments were  made  for  his  giving  up  every  kind  of 
work  for  six  months.  This  fact  was  communicated 
to  him  on  Tuesday  the  11th,  and  was  received  witb 
perfect  composure ;  but  when  his  brother  left,  Mrs. 
Macleod  found  him  in  the  drawing-room  deadly  pale 
and  nearly  fainting.  The  proposal  had  shocked  him 
more  than  he  knew,  as  indicating  the  cessation  of  his 
active  life ;  but  he  revived  after  a  little,  and  spoke 
of  how  delightful  it  would  be  to  take  all  his  children 
to  Cannstadt,  and  how  he  would  enjoy  six  months^ 
rest  with  his  family  and  his  books. 


HIS  DEATH.  387 

The  rapid  sinldng  of  his  strength,  tlie  increa.siii,L; 
tendency  to  faintness,  the  casual  rambling  of  liis 
thoughts,  showed,  however,  too  plainl}^  the  severity  of 
the  attack,  and  his  medical  attendants  held  a  consulta- 
tion on  Thursday,  in  which  Professor  Gairdner  joined. 
TJieir  examination  showed  that  rapid  effusion  had 
taken  place  into  the  pericardium. 

That  morning,  when  one  of  his  brothers  saw  him, 
he  described  a  dream  Avhich  seemed  for  the  time  to 
fill  him  with  happiness  : — '  I  have  had  such  a  glorious 
dream  !  I  thought  the  whole  Punjaub  was  suddenly 
Cliristianised,  and  such  noble  fellows,  with  their  native 
churches  and  clergy.' 

The  next  day  he  was  very  weak,  but  on  Saturday 
the  doctors  found  hini  considerably  better.  The  birth 
of  his  brother  Donald's  eldest  son,  which  occurred  that 
morning,  took  a  strange  hold  of  his  mind,  and  when  the 
father  called  for  him  he  found  him  filled  with  solemn 
thoughts  suggested  by  the  gift  of  this  new  life.  He 
was  seated  in  a  stooping  position,  his  elbows  resting 
on  his  knees,  to  relieve  the  pain  in  his  chest,  and 
while  he  spoke  his  eyes  overflowed  Avith  tears,  as  with 
broken  utterance  he  touched  on  what  had  always 
been  a  congenial  theme : — '  Christ  spoke  of  the  joy 
of  a  man-child  being  born  into  the  world.  He  alone 
could  measure  all  that  is  implied  in  the  beginning  of 
such  an  existence.  A  man  born !  One  that  may 
know  God  and  be  with  Him  for  ever.  A  son  of 
God  like  Jesus  Christ — how  grand — how  awfully 
grand ! '  * 

*  The   same    newspaper   wliich  announced   the  birtli  of  this  boy, 
Norman,  contained  thu  news  of  his  uncle's  death. 

c  c  2 


3H8  LIFE  OF  NORM  AN  MACLEOD. 

That  evening  he  was  so  much  better  as  to  enjoy 
music,  and  his  daughters  played  and  sang  some  of  his 
favourite  pieces, — the  '  Marche  Funebre '  of  Beethoven, 
with  a  part  of  the  Sonata  ;  Mozart's  '  Kyrie  Eleison ; ' 
'  Ach  wie  ist  es  moglich ! '  '  Nearer,  my  God,  to 
Thee.'  He  was  greatly  moved  by  Newman's  well- 
known  hymn,  '  Lead  kindly  light,'  whicli,  strange  to 
say,  he  had  never  heard  sung  before.  Every  word 
seemed  so  appropriate  that  he  made  his  daughter  sit 
beside  him  that  he  might  hear  licr  more  distinctly, 
and  he  shook  his  head  and  bowed  it  with  emphatic 
acquiescence  at  different  passages,  especially  at  the 
lines, — 

"  Keep  Thou  my  feet :  I  do  not  ask  to  see 
The  distant  scene :  one  stop  enough  for  me." 

On  that  night,  as  well  as  on  the  previous  one,  his 
brother  George  sat  up  with  him.  On  the  Friday 
night  he  had  suffered  extremely,  but  he  was  now 
slightly  better.  He  had  snatches  of  sleep,  often  rose 
and  walked  through  the  room,  sometimes  indulging 
in  bits  of  fun,  and  shaking  with  laughter  at  sallies 
of  wit  which  were  evidently  intended  to  relieve  his 
brother's  anxiety.  Sometimes  his  mind  slightly 
wandered.  More  than  once  he  engaged  in  silent 
prayer,  and  after  one  of  these  still  moments  he 
said,  '  I  have  been  praying  for  this  little  boy  of 
Donald's — that  he  may  live  to  be  a  good  man,  and  by 
God's  grace  be  a  minister  in  the  Church  of  Christ — 
the  grandest  of  all  callings  !' 

He  described  with  great  delight  the  dreams  he  had 
been  enjoying,  or  rather  the  visions  which  seemed  to 
be   passing  vividly  before   his  eyes   even  while   he 


HJS  DEATH.  3S9 

was  speaking.  '  You  cannot  imagine  wliat  exquisite 
pictures  I  see.  I  never  beheld  more  glorious  High- 
lands, majestic  mountains  and  glens,  brown  heather 
tinted  with  purple,  and  burns — clear,  clear  burns — 
and  above,  a  sky  of  intense  blue — so  blue,  without 
a  cloud ! ' 

He  spoke  of  an  unusual  number  of  friends,  and 
remembering  that  the  Queen  was  then  leaving 
Balmoral  for  Windsor,  he  prayed  aloud  for  her  and 
her  children. 

Seeing  that  his  brother  was  anxious  that  he  should 
sleep,  he  said,  '  Tell  me  about  the  Crimea,  and  what 
you  saw  there.  There  is  nothing  I  like  so  much  as 
stories  of  battles.  If  you  tell  me  what  you  saw 
you  will  soothe  me  to  sleep  like  a  child.  I  never 
could  well  make  out  the  position  of  the  Flagstaff 
battery.  Now,  just  go  on  ! '  Once,  during  the  night, 
he  asked  his  brother,  with  great  tenderness,  to  kiss 
him  ;  and  at  another  time,  when  awaking  from  sleep, 
he  held  up  his  hands,  as  if  pronounc'ng  the  benedic- 
tion in  church,  and  said  with  much  solemnity,  '  May 
the  grace  of  the  Lord  Jesus  Christ,  and  the  love  of 
God,  and  the  Communion  of  the  Holy  Spirit,  be  with 
you  all.  Amen.'  So  passed  his  last  night  on  earth, 
troubled,  yet  peaceful,  and  full  of  the  unselfishness 
and  simj)licity  of  his  life. 

On  the  morning  of  Sunday,  the  sixteenth  of  June, 
he  was  so  much  better  that  his  brother  left  him  in 
comparative  comfort,  and  when  Professor  Andrew 
Buchanan  saw  him  some  hours  afterwards,  he  was 
surprised  at  the  great  improvement  which  had  taken 
place.     He  felt  so  refreshed  after  taking  some  food, 


390  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

about  seven  in  tlie  morning,  that  he  asked  his  wife 
to  sit  beside  him  while  he  told  licr  the  deeper 
thoughts  that  were  possessing  his  soul.  '  I  believe  I 
will  get  better,'  he  said,  '  but  I  wish  you  to  record 
for  my  good  and  for  our  good  afterwards,  that  in 
this  hurricane  I  have  had  deop  thoughts  of  God. 
I  feel  as  if  He  said,  '  We  know  one  another,  I  love 
you,  I  forgive  you ;  I  put  my  hands  round  you,'  just 
as  I  would  with  my  son  Xorman,'  and  here  he  laid 
his  own  hand  tenderly  on  his  wife's  head.  '•  I  have 
liad  few  religious  exercises  for  the  last  ten  days.  If 
my  son  were  ill  I  would  not  be  angry  with  him  for 
not  sending  me  a  letter.  But  I  have  had  constant 
joy,  and  the  happy  thought  continually  Avhispered, 
'  Thou  art  with  me  ! '  Not  many  would  understand 
me.  Th(y  would  put  down  much  that  I  have  felt  to 
the  delirium  of  weakness,  but  I  have  had  deep  spirit- 
ual insight.'  When  he  was  speaking  of  God's  deal- 
ings, the  expression  of  his  face  and  his  accents  were 
as  if  he  was  addressing  One  actually  present.  Still 
more  intimately,  it  seemed,  than  ever,  his  fellowship 
was  with  the  Father  and  the  Son.  He  again  repeated 
that  he  believed  he  would  get  better,  and  that  his 
latter  days  would  be  more  useful  than  any  former 
ones.  '  I  have  neglected  many  things.  I  have  not 
felt  as  I  ought  how  awfully  good  God  is  ;  how  gene- 
rous and  long-suffering ;  how  He  has  '  put  up '  with 
all  my  rubbish.  It  is  enough  to  crush  me  when  I 
think  of  all  His  mercies'  (as  he  said  this  he  was 
melted  in  tears),  '  mercy,  mercy,  from  beginning  to 
end.  You  and  I  have  passed  through  many  lite- 
storms,  but  we  can    say   with  peace,  it  has  been  all 


HIS  DEATH.  '    391 

right.'  He  added  something  she  could  not  follow 
as  to  what  he  would  wish  to  do  in  his  latter  days, 
and  as  to  how  he  '  would  teach  his  darling  children 
to  know  and  realise  God's  presence.'  He  told  her 
once  more  to  write  down  all  he  had  said,  that  it 
might  do  her  good  Avhen  her  own  day  of  sorrow 
came.  He  frequently  said  that  this  visitation  was 
quite  unexpected. 

Some  hours  afterwards  two  of  his  daughters  came 
to  kiss  him  before  going  to  church.  '  He  took  my 
hands  in  both  of  his,'  one  of  them  writes,  '  and  told 
me  I  must  come  to  see  him  oftener.  '  If  I  had 
strength,'  he  said,  'I  could  tell  you  things  would  do 
you  good  through  all  your  life.  I  am  an  old  man,  and 
have  passed  through  many  experiences,  but  now  all 
is  perfect  peace  and  perfect  calm.  I  have  glimpses 
of  heaven  that  no  tongue,  or  pen,  or  words  can 
describe.'  I  kissed  him  on  his  dear  forehead  and 
went  away,  crying  only  because  he  was  so  ill.  When 
I  next  saw  him  he  was  indeed  '  in  perfect  peace  and 
perfect  calm.' 

The  church  bells  had  for  some  time  ceased  to  ring, 
and  the  quiet  of  the  Lord's-day  rested  on  the  cit}'". 
His  wife  and  one  of  his  sons  were  with  him  in  the 
drawing-room,  where  he  remained  chiefly  sitting  on 
the  sofa.  About  twelve  o'clock  Mrs.  Macleod  went 
to  the  door  to  give  some  directions  about  food.  The 
sudden  cry,  '  Mother,  mother ! '  startled  her,  and 
when  she  hurried  in  she  saw  his  head  had  fallen  back. 
There  was  a  soft  sigh,  and,  gently  as  one  sinking  into 
sleep,  his  spirit  entered  the  eternal  rest. 


CHAPTEE  XXV. 

THE    FUNERAL. 

'  TTAD  I  a  ^ish  on  so  solemn  a  subject,  I  would  be 
-«-L  disposed  to  choose  a  sudden  death.'  So  had 
he  written  some  years  before;  and  those  who  knew  and 
loved  him  best,  when  their  grief  was  so  far  assuaged 
as  to  allow  them  to  judge  calmly,  thanked  God  for 
the  time  and  manner  in  which  it  pleased  Him  to  take 
His  servant  to  Himself.  His  death  came  when  his 
work  was  in  a  sense  complete.  He  had  all  but  accom- 
plished liis  plans  for  meeting  the  spiritual  necessities 
of  his  great  parish.*  He  had  borne  his  last  mature 
testimony  on  behalf  of  India ;  and  his  work  in  the 
Church  and  in  the  country  had,  in  many  ways,  reached 
its  fulness.  Had  it  pleased  God  so  to  order  it,  he 
would  doubtless  have  meekly  accepted  the  burden  of 
an  enfeebled  old  age  spent  in  retirement,  or,  by  divine 
grace,  would  have  patiently  endured  protracted  suffer- 

*  What  reinaiut'd  to  be  done  was  rapidly  executed  after  his  death. 
Three  of  the  Mission  Chapels  were  endowed  as  parishes  by  three  of  his 
friends — Kelvinhau^'h  and  Bhievale  (the  first  and  the  last  he  built), 
being  severally  endowed  by  Mr  Whitelaw  and  Mr.  James  Bainl,  and 
his  own  Mission  Church  erected  into  what  is  now  called  '  The  ^[acleod 
Parish,'  by  Mr.  J.  II.  Ilouldswortli.  The  congrej^atioTi  of  the  I>arony 
completed  in  like  manner  the  remaining  jiarochial  appliances  which 
ho  had  projected,  and  built  a  Memorial  Missionary  Institute  in  a 
destitute  part  of  the  parish. 


THE  FUNERAL.  393 

iiig,  and  watched  with  fortitude  the  slow  approach  of 
certain  death.  But  neither  of  these  experiences — • 
both  so  trying  to  a  temperament  like  his — was  allotted 
to  him.  His  active  nature  did  not  survive  its  useful- 
ness ;  and  instead  of  being  kept  under  what,  to  his 
vivid  imagination,  might  have  been  the  appalling  con- 
sciousness of  life  slowly  ebbing  away,  his  spirit  passed, 
without  a  struggle,  into  that  Pi-esence  in  which  his 
thoughts  and  affections  had  long  made  themselves  a 
beloved  abode. 

The  news  of  his  death  passed  with  extraordinary 
speed  through  ^he  kingdom,  and  everywhere  produced 
a  profound  impression.  No  man,  since  Chalmers,  was 
so  much  mourned  in  Scotland.  People  who  had  never 
exchanged  a  word  with  him  felt  and  spoke  as  if  a 
personal  friend  had  been  taken  away,  and  those  who 
had  deemed  it  their  duty  sometimes  to  o^Dpose  him 
even  with  bitterness,  were  the  foremost  to  pay  honour 
to  the  rich  humanity  and  religious  nobleness,  which 
had  raised  him  above  the  influence  of  all  party  strife. 

A  vague  rumour  of  his  death  having  reached  the 
Queen  she  at  once  telegraphed  for  information,  and 
with  that  ready  sympathy  which  has  so  endeared  her 
to  the  nation,  she  addressed  the  following  letter  to  his 
brother : — 

Balmoral,  June  nth,  1872. 

"  The  Queen  hardly  knows  how  to  begin  a  letter  to  Mr. 
Donald  Macleod,  so  deep  and  strong  are  her  feelings  on 
this  most  sad  and  most  painful  occasion — for  words  are  all 
too  weak  to  say  what  she  feels,  and  what  all  must  feel 
who  ever  knew  his  beloved,  excellent,  and  highly  gifted 
brother,  Dr.  Norman  Macleod  ! 

First  of  all,  to   his  family — his  venerable,   loved,  and 


39+  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

honoured  mother,  his  wife  and  large  family  of  children — 
the  loss  of  this  good  man  is  irrcjiaraljle  and  overwhelming  ! 
But  it  is  an  irreparal)le  public  loss,  and  the  Queen  feels 
this  deeply.  To  herself  personally,  the  loss  of  dear  Dr. 
^lacleod  is  a  very  great  one  ;  he  was  so  kind,  and  on  all 
occasions  showed  her  such  warm  sympatliy,  and  in  the 
early  days  of  her  great  soitow,  gave  the  Queen  so  much 
comfort  whenever  she  saw  him,  that  she  always  looki'd 
forward  eagerly  to  those  occasions  when  she  saw  him  here  ; 
and  she  cannot  realise  the  idea  that  in  this  world  she  is 
never  to  see  his  kind  face,  and  listen  to  those  admiral )le 
discourses  which  did  every  one  good,  and  to  his  churjuing 
conversation  again ! 

"  Tlie  Queen  is  gratified  that  she  was  able  to  see  him 
this  last  time,  and  to  have  some  lengthened  conversation 
with  him,  when  he  dwelt  much  on  that  future  world  to 
wliicli  he  now  belongs.  He  was  sadly  depressed  and  suf- 
fering, but  still  so  near  a  termination  of  his  career  of 
intense  usefulness  and  lovincj'-kindness,  never  struck  her 
or  any  of  us  as  likely,  and  the  Queen  was  terribly  shocked 
on  learning  the  sad,  sad  news.  All  her  children,  present 
.and  absent,  deeply  mourn  his  loss.  The  Queen  would  be 
very  grateful  for  all  the  details  which  Mr.  D.  ^Macleod  can 
give  her  of  the  last  moments  and  illness  of  her  dear  friend. 

"  Pray,  say  everything  kind  and  sympathising  to  their 
venerable  mother,  to  Mrs.  N.  Macleod,  and  all  the  family  ; 
and  she  asks  him  to  accept  himself  of  her  true  heart-felt 
sympathy." 

Among  many  valued  tributes  of  respect  paid  to  his 
memory,  but  which  it  would  be  superfluous  to  mention 
here  in  detail,*  there  was  one  that,  for  many  reasons, 
has  a  peculiar  interest. 

*  Among  these  may  be  mentioned  the  touchin?  allnsions  made  on 
the  Sundaj^  after  his  burial  in  so  many  of  tho  puljnts  of  all  churches 
in  the  kingdom;  and  of  these  there  were  none  truer  or  more  beautiful 
than  those  spoken  in  the  Barony  l)y  Dr.  Watson  of  Dundee,  and  Dr. 
Taj'lor  of  Crathio.  Many  kind  notices  of  his  life  appeared  at  the  time 
in  the  Press,  among  which  was  an  oxqui.sito  sketch  of  his  career 
and  character,  contributed  to  the  Timts  by  Dean  Stanley ;  and  simi- 


THE  FUNERAL.  395 

The  Archbishop  of  Canterbury,  with  characteristic 
catholicity  of  spirit,  thus  addressed  the  Moderator  of 
the  Church  of  Scotland  : — 

Lambeth  Palace,  London,  Jime.  I9<7i,  1873. 
"  My  dear  Moderator, 

"  Will  you  allow  me  to  express  to  you 
officially  the  deep  feeling  of  sorrow  with  which  I  have 
heard  of  the  loss  that  has  befallen  the  Established  Church 
of  Scotland  by  the  death  of  Dr.  Norman  Macleod  ?  He 
v.as  so  widely  known  in  England  as  Avell  as  in  Scotland, 
and,  indeed,  wherever  our  mother  tongue  is  spoken,  that 
liis  death  seems  a  national  loss.  So  zealous,  large-hearted, 
and  gifted  a  pastor  could  ill  be  spared  at  any  time  to  the 
Christian  Church.  While  his  own  people  lament  that 
they  no  longer  hear  his  familiar  voice,  winning  them  by 
his  wise  spoken  counsels,  his  written  words  will  be  missed 
in  thousands  of  homes  in  every  quarter  of  the  world  ;  and 
the  Established  Church,  over  which  you  preside,  will  deeply 

larly  affectionate  and  appreciative  papers  were  written  by  Dr.  Walter 
Smith  in  Gnmd  ■  Words^  and  by  Mr.  Strahan  in  the  Contevijjwary . 
Addresses  of  condolence  were  sent  to  his  family  from  such  public 
bodies  as  the  Presbytery  of  Glasgow,  the  India  Mission,  the  Barony 
Kirk  Session,  the  Barony  Sabbath  School  Association,  the  Bible 
Society,  the  Sunday  School  Society  of  Stockport,  the  Scottish  Amicable 
Insurance  Society,  of  which  he  was  a  director,  the  Sons  of  the  Olergy, 
and  several  others.  A  tablet  to  his  memory  has  been  put  up  in  the 
Parish  Church  of  Loudoun,  where  his  early  labours  are  still  cherished 
in  the  affectionate  memory  of  the  people,  and  a  statue  is  about  to  be 
erected  in  Glasgow.  At  Crathie,  two  stained  windows  have  been  placed 
in  the  church  by  Her  Majesty — the  one  bearing  a  figure  of  King  David, 
and  the  other  one  of  St.  Paul — representing  the  gifts  of  poetry  and 
missionary  zeal.  On  the  former  there  is  inscribed  : — "  In  Memory  of 
the  Eev.  Norman  Macleod,  D.D.,  Dean  of  the  Most  Noble  and  Most 
Ancient  Order  of  the  Thistle,  Dean  of  the  Chapel  Eoyal,  and  One  of 
Her  Majesty's  Chaplains,  a  man  emiiTent  in  the  Church,  honoured  in 
the  State,  and  in  many  lands  greatly  beloved  ; "  on  the  other,  the 
text — '  They  that  be  wise  shall  shine  as  the  brightness  of  the  firma- 
ment ;  and  thej'  that  turn  many  to  righteousness  as  the  stars  for  ever 
and  ever.' — Dan.  xii.  3.  Several  months  after  his  death,  his  family 
were  surprised  and  gratified  by  finding  the  competency  he  had  provided 
for  them  largely  increased  by  those  who  had  loved  him ;  and  this  was 
done  in  a  manner  so  delicate,  as  to  make  the  mention  of  it  here  a 
privilege. 


396  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

feel  the  removal  of  one  who  held  so  high  a  place  amongst 
its  wisest  and  most  strenuous  defenders. 

"  Believe  me  to  be,  my  dear  Moderator, 
"  Your  faithful  servant, 

"A.  C.   Cantuar." 

It  is  unfortunately  so  seldom  the  representatives  of 
the  National  Churches  of  England  and  Scotland  ex- 
change official  communications,  that  this  letter  becomes 
the  more  remarkable  as  indicating  at  once  the  wide 
influence  exercised  by  Dr.  Maclcod,  and  the  reality  of 
that  unity  in  virtue  of  which,  if  one  branch  of  the 
Church,  sufi'ers,  the  whole  Church  suffers  with  it. 

nis  funeral  took  place  on  Thursday,  the  20th,  and 
was  celebrated  with  a  solemnity  unparalleled  in  the 
history  of  the  city  with  which  his  labours  were  so 
long  associated. 

The  day  was  of  hnavenly  beauty,  seeming  the  more 
beautiful  that  it  had  been  preceded  and  was  followed 
by  days  of  storm.  There  was  a  private  service  at  his 
own  house,  for  the  members  of  his  family,  at  which 
his  friend  Dr.  Watson  officiated,  and  from  his  house 
to  the  Barony  church,  where  his  remains  were  first 
borne,  the  streets  were  lined  with  an  observant  multi- 
tude. The  Barony  church  was  filled  with  the  members 
of  his  own  congregation,  and  of  his  Mission  churches, 
and  the  venerable  Cathedral  seemed  doubly  solemn 
from  the  reverent  throng  of  mourning  friends  and 
representatives  of  public  bodies  gathered  there  to 
do  honour  to  the  dead. 

Among  those  present  were  Dr.  Robertson,  Queen's 
commissioner,  sent  by  Iler  Majesty  to  represent  Her- 
self and  the  Prince  of  Wales,  and  the  Hon.  E.  C. 


Tin:  FUNERAL.  307 

Yorke,  wlio  acted  in  a  similar  capacity  for  tlie  Duke 
of  Edinburgh. 

The  service  in  the  Barony  was  conducted  by  Dr. 
Burns,  the  minister  of  the  Cathedral,  and  by  Dr. 
Walter  C.  Smith,  of  the  Free  Church,  while  Professor 
Eadie,  of  the  United  Presbyterian  Church,  and  Dr. 
Smith,  of  North  Leith,  officiated  in  the  Cathedral. 

When  the  solemn  services  were  concluded,  the  cor- 
tege was  accompanied  to  the  outskirts  of  the  city  by 
the  magistrates  of  Glasgow,  the  sheriffs,  the  repre- 
sentatives of  Koyalty,  the  senate  of  the  University,  and 
by  other  public  functionaries  in  their  offi.cial  robes  ;  by 
clergymen  of  all  Churches,  gathered  from  many  dis- 
tricts of  the  country,  and  by  the  members  of  various 
religious  and  other  societies  with  which  he  had  been 
connected.  These  preceded  the  hearse,  and  behind  it 
and  the  mourning  relatives,  there  followed  a  long  line  of 
nearly  three  thousand  persons  of  all  classes  of  the  com- 
munity. This  demonstration  of  respect  was  the  more 
gratifying  that  it  was  entirely  spontaneous.  As  the 
great  procession  moved  on  to  the  sad  music  of  the 
'  Dead  March,'  it  was  watched  along  the  whole  route 
by  a  vast  multitude,  occupying  every  available  position 
from  which  a  view  could  be  obtained,  and  showing 
by  their  saddened  aspect  how  deeply  the  hearts  of 
the  people  had  been  touched.  One  of  the  most 
remarkable  features  in  that  crowd  was  the  large  pro- 
portion of  working  men  and  of  the  poor,  who  came  to 
pay  honour  to  the  memory  of  him  who  had  laboured 
so  earnestly  for  their  good.  More  than  one  touching 
testimony  was  audibly  expressed  by  these  onlookers 
to  the  benefit  they  had  received  from  him.     '  Tliere 


398  LIFE  OF  NORMAN  MACLEOD. 

goes  Xorman  Miiclcod,'  a  brawny  working  man  was 
hoard  saying,  as  the  dark  column  movod  past ;  '  if  he 
had  done  no  more  tlian  what  he  did  for  my  soul,  he 
would  shine  as  the  stars  for  ever.' 

As  the  fumu-al  approached  Campsie,  it  was  not  only 
met  by  many  f'ric^nds,  but  as  business  had  been  for 
the  time  suspended  in  the  town,  and  the  shops  closed, 
the  entire  population  united  in  paying  respect  to  the 


honoured  dead,  whose  ashes  were  to  rest  in  the  old 
j)arish  where  his  early  life  had  been  spent. 

He  was  laid  beside  his  father,  and  as  the  grave 
which  was  prepared  for  him  M'as  discovered,  iiuox- 
pectedly,  to  be  that  of  James,  the  two  brothers,  \Ahose 
lives  had  been  linked  by  the  holiest  of  all  ties,  were 
thus  united  in  their  last  resting-place. 

Ere  the  coffin  was  lowered,  three  wreaths  of  Immor- 
telles were  placed  upon  it.     The  first  bore  the  inscrip- 


THE  FUNERAL.  399 

tion,  '■  A  token  of  respect  and  friendship  from  Queen 
V'ictoria ; '  the  second,  '  A  token  of  respect  from 
Prince  Leopokl,'  and  the  third,  'A  token  of  respect 
from  Princess  Beatrice.' 

The  spot  where  he  sleeps  is  a  suggestive  emblem  of 
his  life.  On  the  one  side  are  the  hum  of  business  and 
the  houses  of  toiling  humanity.  On  the  other,  green 
pastoral  hills,  and  the  silence  of  Highland  solitudes. 
More  than  one  eye  rested  that  day  on  the  sunny  slope 
where  he  had  so  lately  dreamt  of  building  a  home  for 
his  old  age — more  than  one  heart  thanked  God  for  the 
more  glorious  mansion  into  which  he  had  entered. 


APPENDIX. 


Address  presented  before  landing  at  Bomihay. 

To  The  Reverend  Norman  Macleod,  D,D. 

*'  Steamship  Rangoon, 

"  25f/t  Nov.,  1867. 
'•  Reverend  and  Dear  Sir, 

"  We,  the  Captain,  OtHcers,  and  Passengers  on  board  the 
eteamship  Rmujoon,  cannot  bid  you  adieu  without  expressing  our 
grateful  sense  of  the  peculiar  privilege  we  have  enjoyed  in  your 
society  and  your  ministrations. 

"  As  being  all  of  us  connected  with  India,  we  cannot  but  feel 
an.l  believe  that  the  visit  to  that  country  of  one  who  exercises  so 
giecit  and  beneficial  an  influence  on  public  opinion  at  home  must 
be  productive  of  the  greatest  benefit. 

"  We  all  most  sincerely  unite  in  wishing  you  and  your  colleague 
Dr.  Watson  a  prosperous  journey,  and  a  safe  and  happy  return  to 
your  country  and  families. 

"  We  beg  to  remain, 

"  Reverend  and  dear  Sir, 

"  Yours  gratefully  and  affectionately, 


(Signed) 


"D,  Ronaldson,  Captain. 

•'  Campbell  Keir,  Solicitor. 

"G.  A.  Leckie,  Col.,  B.  Staff  Corps. 

*'  George  Campbkll,  Commissioner  at  Nagpore. 

"  W.  D.   Robertson,  C.S.,  Bombay. 

"  M.  Mull,  F.  of  India  Newspaper. 

•'  A.  A.  MuNRo,  Major,  Bengal  Army. 

"  John  M.  Champion,  Major,  R.E. 

*' J.  H.  B.  Hallen,  B.  Aimy,  Inspector  of  Garrisons, 

«'  Wm.  Thorn,  M.D.,  B.  Army. 

*•  John  D,  Fuller,  Lieut. -Col.,  R.E. 


APPENDIX. 

"A.  E.  Haighly,  B.A.  Revenue  Survoy. 

«'  H.  E.  Bright,  Esq.,  or  Ensijiu 

"  Thomas  D.  Rogers. 

"James  Sheldon.  '--  ' 

"Jessie  M'Culloch. 

«'  Frances  Marriott. 

"Anna  M.  Lynch. 

"  S.  M'Culloch,  Barrister. 

"  George  Birdwood,  M.D. 

"  Arthur  Phelps,  Capt.,  B.  Stalf  Corp3. 

"  M.  Edwards,  Ben.  C.S. 

"  Helena  Sorter. 

"  F.  J.  Oliphant. 

"  J.  H.  Champion,  Lieut-Col. 

"  Fredk.  Jas.  Parsons,  B.  Staff.  Corps. 

"  Maria  Berthon. 

"  Charlotte  Webb. 

"Jeanie  Cameron. 

"  Alice  Thomas. 

"  R.  A.  Elphinstone,  Major,  B.  Staff.  Corps. 

"  John  Wm.  Yorke  Fishbourne,  M.D. 

"  WiLLiAi*!  F.  Best. 

"Dlvna  J.  Walton. 

"  G.  Boileau  Reid,  B.C.S. 

"  Mary  S.  Walker. 

"J.  W.  Sanderson. 

"M.  J.  O'Kearny. 

"  Wm.  Morland. 

"  Art.  Richmond,  Assist.  Surg. 

"  Wm.  Fuller,  Col.,  R.H.A. 

"M.  a.  Tapp. 

"E.  Edwards. 

"J.  D.  Williams. 

"H.  A.  Williams,  Col.,  R-S. 
"G.  E.  Thomas,  B.  Staff  Corps. 
"  Walter  Pains. 
"  George  S.  Lynch,  Solicitor. 

"  W.    PORTEOUS,  C.S. 

"F.  Stanger  Leathes,  Solicitor, 
"  Wm.  M.  Leckie,  Lieut-Col.,  B.N.I. 
"J.  Bayley,  Capt.,  7th  Hussars-. 
"  J.  M.  G.  Bayley. 
"A.  Y.  Kennedy, 
VOL.    II.  ^   ^ 


40I 


401 


APPE.^DIX. 


M.    A.    El-PHINSTOXK. 

J.  A.  Slater. 

Agnes  J.  Hill. 

Rout.  Brown,  C.F. 

Janet  V.  Munro. 

W.  S.  C.  LocKHART,  Bengal  Cavalry, 

C.  A.  Heller. 

C.  L.  D.  Newmarch,  Col..  Bengal  E. 

A.   W.  Newmarch. 

\Vm.  Clonstar,  Civil  Engineer. 

George  Arbuthnot,  Capt.,  and  A.D.C, 

L.   B.  Hallktt,  Capt.,  B.  Stafl' Corps. 

W.  S.  Hallktt. 

Wm.  B.  Preston,  Capt.,  B.  Staff  Coi-ps. 

Tho.  Ed.  Rodger. 

Emily  J.  Thorn. 

George  M.  Huckebert 

Stephen  H.  M'Thirne,  C.S, 

J.  Ireland. 

St.  Clair  Ireland. 

T.  S.  Ireland. 

James  W.  Noble,  P.  and  0.  Co. 

Charles  Turner. 

W.  Birthon,  Major,  Staff  Corps. 

Afleck  Moodie,  Barrister. 

Annie  Best. 

Georgina  a,  Taylor. 

Henry  S.  Kinncard. 

J.  L.  Johnston,  C.E. 

J.  Jackson. 

R.  T.  Hare,  Capt. 

G.  A.  Hare. 

A.  C.  Howden,  Civil  Engineer. 

Mrs.  A.  C.  Howden." 


B. 


Copy  of  Medical  Certificate. 

"  Certified  that  we  have  carefully  examined  into  tbo  state  of  health 
of  the  Rev.  Norman   Macleod,  D.D.,  and   wo  are   unanimously  of 


APPENDIX.  403 

opinion,  that  it  would  be  attended  with  danger  to  his  life,  should 
he  persist  in  his  intention  of  continuing  his  tour  to  Sealkote. 

"  We  consider  that  he  ought  to  leave  India  at  the  latest  on  the 
3rd  March,  and  till  then,  we  believe  that  he  may  with  safety  visit 
any  stations  which  can  be  reached  by  rail. 

(Signed) 

"  J.  Farquhar,  M.D. 

Suryeon  to  Viceroy. 
"J.  Fayer,  M.D. 
**  J.  Edmonston  Charles,  M.D., 

M.R.C.P.  Lond.,  Art.  Obstet.  Prof. 
*«  Calcutta,  8th  Februanj,  1868. 


C. 

Extract  from  Address  on  Missions. 

*•....  What,  then,  it  may  be  asked,  have  missions  done 
generally  for  India?  What  measure  of  success  have  they  had, 
or  are  they  likely  to  have  ?  Or  such  questions  may  be  summed 
up  iu  the  more  general  and  inclusive  one,  What  is  the  state  and 
what  are  the  prospects  of  Christianity  in  India  ? 

"  In  attempting,  in  the  most  general  manner,  to  deal  with  ques- 
tions which  demand  volumes  instead  of  a  speech,  however  long, 
to  reply  to  them,  1  shall  assume  for  the  moment  that  I  am 
addressing  here,  or  through  the  reporters,  those  only  who  have  not 
thought  or  inquh'ed  much  on  the  subject. 

"  Recollect,  then,  that  we  are  speaking  of  a  country  of  enormous 
extent,  with  a  population  of  at  least  180,01)0,000,  the  Bengal 
Presilency  alone  numbering  more  than  the  whole  empire  of 
Austria — that  this  great  country  is  occupied  by  various  races  from 
the  most  savage  to  the  most  cultivated,  having  various  religious 
behefs,  and  speaking  languages  which  differ  from  each  other  as 
much  as  Gaelic  does  from  Italian,  most  of  them  broken  up  by 
dialects  so  numerous  as  practically  to  form  probably  twenty 
separate  languages.  Remember  that  the  vast  majority  of  this 
people  have  inherited  a  religion  and  a  civilisation,  of  which  I  shall 
have  to  speak  afterwards,  from  a  vast  antiquity.  Recollect, 
further,  that  the  attempt  to  impart  the  truth  and  life  of  Chris- 
tianity to  this  great  mass  has  been  systematically  begun  by  the 
Protestant  Church  in  British  India  within  the  memory  of  living 
men  ;  so  that  the  age  of  our  Scottish  missions   is   represented   by 

D    D  2 


404  APPENDIX. 

Dr.  Duff,  who  commenced  thom,  and  still  lives  to  aid  them  m  cor- 
nection  with  tho  Free  Church.  Realise,  if  yon  can,  tli  •  diiH.nitios 
which  the  missionaries  engaged  in  such  a  tremendous  enterjirise 
have  had  to  overcome  in  the  ignorance  and  inliilerence,  even  the 
opposition,  of  professing  Chrstians  at  home,  and  of  timid  Eurojean 
otHcials  ahroad  ;  their  want,  for  a  time,  of  the  very  tools  and  in- 
struments with  which  to  conduct  their  operations  ;  their  ignorance 
of  the  hinguage,  of  the  religious  systems,  of  the  mental  habits  and 
national  idiosyncrasies  of  the  people;  their  want  of  a  Bible  which 
could  be  used,  and  of  an  educated  people  who  could  read  it,  and 
of  any  Christian  natives  able  and  willing  to  interpret  it  to  their 
countrymen.  Remember,  finally,  the  agencies  which  are  at 
present  labouring  in  India  before  asking  the  question  as  to  results. 
There  are  in  India,  say,  in  round  numbers,  five  hundred  European 
and  American  missionaries.  You  will  notice  that  the  members  of 
this  General  Assembly,  with  those  of  the  Assembly  of  the  Free 
Chui'ch  meeting  in  our  immediate  neighbourhood,  number  more 
than  the  whole  mission  staff  in  British  India.  Yet  these  Assem- 
blies represent  two  churches  only  in  all  Scotland  ;  while  all  Scot- 
land's inhabitants  would  hardly  be  missed  out  of  one  district  of 
Bengal  alone  !  Or,  let  us  put  the  proportion  of  missionaries  to 
the  population  in  another  way  :  There  are  in  England  and  Scot- 
laud  about  36,000  ordained  Protestant  clergy  of  every  denomina- 
tion, supported  at  a  cost  of  several  millions  annuHlly.  These 
clergy  have,  moreover,  connected  with  them  a  vast  agency, 
amounting  to  hundreds  of  thousands  of  Sunday-school  teachers, 
local  missionaries,  Scripture  readers,  elders,  and  deacons,  teachers 
of  Christian  schools,  and  pious  members  of  churches,  who  aie 
engaged  in  diffusing  a  knowledge  of  Christianity,  and  in  dispensing 
its  practical  blessings  in  ways  and  forms  innumerable.  Now,  sup- 
pose all  this  great  agt  ncy  taken  across  the  ocean  and  located  in 
the  Presidency  of  Bengal  alone,  leaving  all  the  rest  of  India  as  it 
is,  giving  not  one  missionary  to  the  Presidency  of  Madras  with  a 
population  of  twenty-two  millions  ;  none  to  Bombay  or  Scindh 
with  twelve  millions ;  none  to  the  North-West  Province ;  with 
thirty  millions  ;  none  to  the  Punjab  with  fourteen  millions  ;  none 
to  Oudh  with  eight  millions  ;  none  to  the  Central  Pi'ovinces  with 
six  millions  :  none  to  other  districts  with  five  millions — but  giving 
all  to  Bengal,  and  confining  their  ministrations  there  to  a  popula- 
tion equal  to  that  which  they  left  behind  in  all  England  and  Scot- 
land, there  would  still  remain  in  that  Presidency  a  stirphis  jiojiu- 
lotion  of  fourteen  millions  tvititout  a  siiKjle  vnst:ionai-y  I  Without 
presuming  to  solve  the  problem  when   that  blessed  period  is  to 


APPENDIX.  ■        \oi 

avrive  in  which,  having  no  more  to  do  at  home,  wo  may  be  set 
free  to  do  move  for  India,  I  wish  you  at  present  to  understand 
what  is  being  done  by  us,  aloyuj  with  ether  coiuitrles,  for  the  dif- 
fusion of  Christianity  in  the  Eastern,  as  compared  with  this,  the 
Northern,  portion  of  our  great  empire.  Now,  assuming  as  I  do 
that  the  missionaries  abroad  are  equal  to  our  missionaries — or, 
what  is  the  same  thiog,  our  ministers  at  home — yet,  deducting 
from  their  small  band  of  five  hundred  men  those  who  are  advanced 
in  years,  and  whose  day  is  well-nigh  done — those  who  are  young 
and  inexperienced,  and  whose  day  is  hardly  begun — those  who 
have  not  the  gifts,  or  the  knowledge,  or  the  mental  habits,  or  the 
spiritual  power  which  is  required  for  thoroughly  eflective  work — 
and  deducting  also,  as  I  presume  we  must  do,  a  few  who  are  un- 
fit from  other  causes,  such  as  sloth  or  mere  professionalism,  then 
we  necessarily  reduce  the  number  of  such  men  as  are  able  to  cope 
with  the  gigantic  evils  and  errors  of  India — men  able  l)y  the  power 
of  their  teaching  and  of  their  character  to  impress  the  observant  and 
thinking  natives  with  a  sense  of  the  truth  and  glory  of  Chris- 
tianity. In  regard,  however,  to  the  moral  character  of  all  those 
missionaries,  I  rejoice  to  say  ihit  our  information,  derived  from 
every  quarter,  fully  reahsed  our  hopes  that  they  were  worthy  of 
the  Churches  which  had  sent  them  foroh.  Hindoos  and  Christians, 
natives  and  Europeans  of  every  rank  and  class,  were  unanimous  in 
their  hearty  testimony  upon  this  point,  and  fully  appreciated  the 
unsullishness  of  their  motives,  the  sincerity  of  their  convictions, 
their  iniimate  knowledge  of  and  interest  in  the  natives,  and  the 
wholesomeness  of  their  influence  upon  the  whole  body  of  Indian 
society.  Among  these  missionaries,  too,  there  are  some  every- 
where who,  as  regards  mental  power,  learning,  and  earnestness, 
would  do  honour  to  any  Church,  and  who  have  largely  contributed 
to  advance  the  interests  of  social  science.  Oriental  literature  and 
history,  as  well  as  of  Christianity,  and  who  have  a  right  to  deepest 
respect,  sympathy,  and  gratitude  from  all  who  have  at  heart  the 
conversion  of  India.  It  is  gratifying  and  assuring  to  know,  also, 
that  the  number  of  missionaries  and  of  their  stations  is  steadily 
on  the  increase,  while  conversions  increase  in  a  still  greater  ratio. 

"I  have  not,  of  course,  spoken  here  of  the  labours  or  influence 
of  chaplains  with  reference  to  missions.  In  numerous  instances 
these  have  been  very  eflective,  but  they  might  be  greater  in  many 
more.  Nor  have  I  alluded  to  the  English  bishops,  who,  as  a  rule, 
have  been,  as  gentlemen  of  learning  and  highest  character,  an 
honour  to  the  Church  and  to  Christianity. 

"  Bat  we  have  been  faking  into  our  calculation  the  difficulties  onlj 


+o6  APPENDIX. 

on  our  own  side,  so  to  speak,  in  the  way  of  imparfinj,'  knowlodp;e 
to  the  natives  of  India.  Ought  we  not  also  to  consider  the  diffi- 
culties of  the  other  side  in  receiving  our  message  ?  Of  these,  as 
peculiar  to  Hindoos,  I  shall  have  occasion  to  speak  afterwards ; 
but  here  I  would  have  you  remember  that,  in  addition  to  the  diffi- 
culties common  to  inert,  slothful,  prejudiced,  and  self-satisfied 
people  in  every  part  of  the  world, — in  Christendom  as  well  as 
heathendom, — to  change  any  opinion,  however  eiToneous  or  inde- 
fensible, or  any  habit,  however  foolish  or  absurd,  the  natives  of 
India  generally,  among  other  hindrances,  have  presented  to  them 
for  their  acceptance  a  religion  wholly  diflcrent  in  kind  from  all 
they  or  their  fathers  ever  heard  of  or  believed  in.  It  therefore 
demands  time,  intelligence,  and  patience  to  examine  and  under- 
stand it  even  when  preached  to  them.  It  is  a  religion,  moreover, 
which  they  have  never  seen  adequately  embodied  or  expressed  in 
its  social  aspects,  whether  of  the  Church  or  the  family,  but  only 
as  a  creed ;  and  this,  too,  of  a  strange  people,  whom,  as  a  rule, 
they  dislike,  as  being  alien  to  them  in  language,  in  race,  in  feel- 
ings, and  manners,  and  who  have  conquered  and  revolutionised 
their  country  by  acts,  as  chey  think,  of  cruelty,  injustice,  and 
avarice. 

"  But  let  us  suppose  that  the  intelligent  and  educated  Hindoo  has 
been  convinced  by  English  education  of  the  falsehood  of  his  own 
religion.  I  beg  of  you  to  realise  and  to  sympathize  with  his  ditli- 
culties  of  another  kind,  when  Christianity,  as  the  only  true  religion, 
is  presented  to  him  for  his  acceptance.  He  has  brought  his  Brab- 
minical  creed  and  practices,  we  shall  assume,  under  the  light  of 
reason,  conscience,  and  science,  for  their  judgment,  and  he  has 
had  pronounced  upon  them  the  sentence  of  condemnation.  He 
has  discovered  that  he  has  hitherto  believed  a  lie,  and  been  the 
slave  of  a  degrading  or  childish  superstition.  But  must  he  not 
subject  this  new  religion  of  Christianity,  witb  its  sacred  books,  to 
the  same  scrutiny,  and  judge  of  them  by  the  same  light  ?  Un- 
questionably he  must ;  and  so  far  a  great  point  is  gained,  and  one 
most  hopeful  to  the  accomplished  and  earnest  missionary,  when 
his  teaching  is  examined  honestly  and  sincerely  in  the  light  of 
truth,  instead  of  being  judged  by  th6  mere  authorit  ,•  of  custom  or 
tradition.  But  such  an  investigation  necessarily  implies  a  tri'  1  of 
the  severest  and  yet  of  the  noblest  kind,  both  to  the  inquirer  and 
his  teacher.  And  we  need  not  be  surprised  if  the  first  and  most 
general,  indeed,  I  might  say,  the  universal,  result  of  this  scrutiny 
on  the  part  of  the  Hindoo,  should  be  the  impression  that  Chris- 
tianity, as   a    religion  whose  characteristic  and  essential    doctrines 


APPENDIX.  407 

are  alleged  facU,  is  but  another  form  of  superstition,  with  false 
miracles,  false  science,  and  false  everything,  which  professes  to 
belong  to  the  region  of  the  supernatural.  These  difficulties  are 
moreover  increased  and  intensified  by  those  schools  of  thought 
which  at  present,  anl  as  a  reaction  from  the  past,  exercise  such 
an  influence  in  Europe  and  America.  Their  views  and  opinions 
are  in  every  possible  form  reproduced  in  India,  and  take  root  the 
more  readily,  owing  to  the  remarkable  inability  of  the  Hindoo 
mind,  whatever  be  its  cause,  to  weigh  historical  evidence,  and  to 
appreciate  the  value  of  facts  in  their  bearing  on  the  grounds  of 
religious  belief. 

"  If  to  this  is  added  the  manner  in  which  Christianity,  even  as  a 
creed,  has  sometimes,  we  fear,  by  truly  Christian  men,  been  repre- 
sented, or  rather  misrepresented — with  its  doctrines,  if  not  falsely 
put,  yet  sometimes  put  in  a  harsh,  distorted,  one-sided,  or  exag- 
gerated light,  proclaimed  with  little  love,  and  defended  with  less 
logic — we  shall  be  the  more  prepared  to  weigh  the  results  of  Chris- 
tian missions  with  some  approximation  to  the  truth. 

"  In  so  far  as  the  lesults  of  missions  in  India  can  be  given  by 
mere  statistics,  these  have  been  collected  with  remarkable  care, 
and  published  in  1834  by  Dr.  MiUens,  hiunelf  an  able  and  dis- 
tinguished missionary.  From  these  we  gather  that  there  are  in 
round  numbers  about  140,000  natives  in  Hindostan  professing 
Christianity ;  28,000  in  communion  ;  with  upwards  of  900  native 
churches,  which  contribute  £10,000  annually  for  the  support  of 
the  Gospel.  About  100  natives  have  been  ordained  to  the 
ministry,  while  1,300  labour  as  catechists.  Upwards  of  33,000 
boys  and  8,000  girls  receive  a  Christian  education  at  mission 
schools.  As  a  means  as  well  as  a  result  of  mission  work,  I  may 
state  that  the  whole  Bible  has  been  translated  into  fourteen  of  the 
languages  of  India,  including  all  the  principal  tongues  of  the 
empire  ;  the  New  Testament  into  five  more  ;  and  twenty  separate 
books  of  the  Old  and  New  Testament  into  seven  more.  These 
mission  agencies  ai'e  scattered  over  iiU  India,  and  shhie  as  sources 
of  intellectual,  moral,  and  Christian  light  amidst  the  surrounding 
darkness  of  heathenism.  Now,  surely  some  good  and  lasting  work 
has  been  thus  done,  and  seed  sown  by  these  means,  which  may  yet 
spring  up  in  the  hearts  of  men. 

"But  I  will  by  no  means  peril  the  results  of  missions  on  any 
mere  statistics.  Not  that  I  have  any  doubt  as  to  the  care  and 
honesty  with  which  these  have  been  furnished  or  collected,  but 
because  of  the  impossibility  of  obtaining  by  this  method  a  just 
impression   of  what  has  been  actually  acomplished  by  Christian 


40  8  APPEXDIX. 

missions.  To  some  tbey  would  seem  to  prove  too  mucL,  tiulesa 
the  races,  the  districts,  tlie  beliefs  out  of  which  the  conversions 
have  come  are  taken  into  account,  along  with  the  intelligence  and 
character  of  the  converts.  To  most  they  might  prove  less  than 
they  are  capable  of  proving,  as  they  afford  no  evidence  of  the 
indirect  results  of  missions,  or  of  what  is  being  more  and  more 
effected  by  them  on  the  whole  tone  and  spirit  of  Hindoo  society, 
as  prejifirdtovii  to  deeper  and  more  extensive  ultimate  results. 
Nevertheless,  the  more  the  i-eal  value  of  the  work  which  has  been 
accomplished  is  judged  of  by  the  individual  history  of  those  re- 
turned as  converts,  making  every  deduction  which  can  with  fair- 
ness be  demanded  for  want  of  knowledge,  want  of  moral  strength, 
or  want  of  influence,  tbei'e  yet  remains  such  a  number  of  native 
converts  of  intelligence  and  thorough  sincerity,  such  a  number  of 
native  Christian  clergy  of  acquirements,  mental  power,  and  elo- 
quence, and  of  strength  of  convictions  and  practical  piety,  as  com- 
mands the  respect  of  even  educated  and  high-caste  Hindoos,  Such 
facts  disprove,  at  least,  the  bold  assertions  of  those  who  allege  that 
missions  have  done  nothing  in  India.  One  fact,  most  creditable 
to  native  Christians,  ou':;ht  not  to  be  forgotten  by  us — that  of  the 
two  thousand  involved  in  thj  troubles  of  the  Mutiny,  ail  proved 
loyal,  six  only  apostatised,  and  even  they  afterwards  returned. 

"  But  in  estimating  the  present  condition  of  India  with  reference 
to  the  probable  overthrow  of  its  false  religions,  and  the  substitu- 
tion for  them  of  a  living  Christianity,  we  must  look  at  India  as  a 
whole.  Now,  we  are  all  aware  of  the  vast  changes  which  have 
taken  place  during  a  comparatively  recent  period  in  most  of  those 
customs,  which,  though  strictly  religious  according  to  the  views  of 
the  Brahnians,  are  now  prohibited  by  law,  and  have  passed,  or 
are  rapidly  passing,  away  in  practice — such  as  Suttee,  infanticide, 
the  self-tortures  and  deaths  of  fanatics  at  great  idol-festivals,  &c. 
We  know,  too,  of  other  reforms  which  must  be  in  the  end  success- 
ful, such  as  tho  e  affecting  the  marriage  of  widows,  polygamy,  the 
education  of  femaljs,  &c.  Such  facts  indicate  great  changes  in 
piihlic  opinivu,  and  that  the  tide  of  thought  has  turned,  and  is 
slowly  but  surely  rising,  soon  to  float  off"  or  immerse  all  the  idols 
of  India.  In  truth,  tho  whole  intelli,'ent  and  informed  mind  of 
India,  na  ive  and  European,  is  convinced,  and  multitudes  within  a 
wider  circle  more  than  suspect,  that,  come  what  may  in  its  place, 
idolatry  is  doomed.  The  poor  and  ignorant  millions  will  be  the 
last  to  perceive  any  such  revolution.  They  will  continue  to  visit 
and  bathe  in  their  old  muddy  stream,  as  their  ancestors  have  done 
during  vast  ages,  wondering  at  first  why  those  whom  they  have 


APPENDIX.  409 

been  taught  to  follow  as  tbeir  religious  guides  have  left  its  banks, 
and  drink  no  more  of  its  waters,  wondering  most  of  all  when  at 
last  they  discover  these  waters  to  be  dried  up.  Others  of  a  higher 
intelligence  may  endeavour  for  a  while  to  purify  them,  or  to  give 
a  sj'mbolic  and  spiritual  meaning  to  the  very  mud  and  filth  which 
cannot  be  separated  from  them.  Men  of  greater  learning  and  finer 
spiritual  mould  will  seek  to  drink  from  those  purer  fountains  that 
bubble  up  in  the  distant  heights  of  their  own  Vedas,  at  the  water- 
shed of  so  many  holy  streams,  and  ere  these  have  become  contami- 
nated with  the  more  earthy  mixtures  of  the  lower  valleys.  But  all 
are  doomed.  For  neither  the  filthy  and  symbolic  stream  of  the 
Puranas,  nor  the  purer  fountain  of  the  Vedas  alone,  can  satisfy 
the  thirst  of  the  heart  of  man,  more  especially  when  it  has  once 
tasted  the  waters  of  life  as  brought  to  us  by  Jesus  Christ :  or,  to 
change  the  simile,  although  the  transition  between  the  old  and 
new  may  be  a  wide  expanse  of  desert  filled  up  with  strange 
mirages,  fantastic  forms,  and  barren  wastes,  yet  whether  this 
generation  or  another  may  reach  the  Land  of  Promise  flowing  with 
milk  and  honey,  the  people  must  now  leave  Egypt  wifh  its  idols, 
and  in  spite  of  raurmurings,  regrets,  and  rebellions,  can  return  to 
it  no  more. 

"  When  I  thus  speak  of  the  destruction  of  Hindooism,  I  am  far 
from  attributing  this  result  solely  to  the  efforts  of  missionaries, 
though  these  have  not  only  taken  a  most  worthy  share  in  the 
work  of  destruction,  but  have  also  laboured  at  the  more  difficult 
and  more  important  work  of  construction.  The  whole  varied  and 
combined  forces  of  Western  civilisation  must  be  taken  into  account. 
The  indomitable  power  of  England,  with  the  extension  of  its 
government  and  the  justice  of  its  administration,  has,  in  spite  of 
every  drawback  that  can  be  charged  against  it,  largely  contributed 
to  this  result.  So  also,  in  their  own  way,  have  railroads  and  tele- 
graphs, helping  to  unite  even  outwardly  the  people  and  the  several 
parts  of  India  to  each  other,  and  all  to  Europe.  The  light  which 
has  been  shed  by  the  Oriental  scholars  of  Europe  upon  the  sacred 
books  and  ancient  literature  of  the  Hindoos,  has  been  an  incal- 
culable advantage  to  the  missionary,  and  to  all  who  wish  to 
understand  and  to  instruct  the  people  of  India.  But  nothing  has 
so  directly  and  rapidly  told  upon  then-  intellectual  and  moral  history 
as  the  education  which  they  owe  solely  to  European  wisdom  and 
energy.  The  wave-line  which  marks  its  flow,  marks  also  the  ebb 
of  idolatry.  This  influence  will  be  more  easily  appreciated  when 
it  is  remembered  that  3,089,000  Hindoos  and  about  90,000  Mo- 
hammedans attend  Government  schools,  and  upwards  of  40,000 


410  APPENDIX. 

of  theso  attend  schools  which  educate  up  to  a  University  entrance 
standard,  in  which  English  is  a  hrauch  of  examination.  Theso 
schools  have  been  found  fault  with  because  they  do  not  directly 
teach  religion.  It  has  been  said  that  they  practically  make  ail 
their  pupils  mere  Deists.  But  apart  from  the  difliculties  which 
attend  any  attempt  on  the  part  of  Government  to  do  more,  even 
were  it  to  assume  the  grave  responsibility  of  determining  what 
system  of  theology  should  be  taught,  and  of  selecting  the  men  to 
teach  it,  yet  surely  Deism  is  a  great  advance  on  Hindooism.  If  a 
man  occupies  a  position  half-way  between  the  valley  and  the 
mountain-top,  that  alone  cannot  determine  whether  he  is  ascend- 
ing or  descending.  We  must  know  the  point  from  which  he  has 
started  on  his  journey.  Thus  departing  from  the  low  level  of  the 
Puranas,  it  seems  to  me  that  the  Hindoo  pupil  who  has  reached 
the  Theism  of  even  the  Vedas  only,  has  ascended  towards  the  purer 
and  far-seeing  heights  of  Christian  revelation.  Anyhow,  the  fact 
is  certain,  whatever  be  the  ultimate  results,  that  education  itself, 
which  opens  up  a  new  world  to  the  native  eye,  has  destroyed  his 
old  world  as  a  system  of  religious  belief. 

"  I  know  few  things,  indeed,  which  strike  one  more  who  for  the 
first  time  comes  into  contact  with  an  educated  native,  than  hearing 
him  converse  in  the  purest  Knglish  on  subjects  and  in  a  manner 
which  are  associated,  not  with  oriental  dress  and  features,  but 
with  all  that  is  cultivated  and  refined  at  home.  You  feel  at  once 
that  here  at  least  is  a  way  opened  up  for  communication  by  the 
mighty  power  of  a  common  language,  and  of  a  mind  so  trained 
and  taught  as  to  be  able  thoroughly  to  comprehend  and  discuss  all 
we  wish  to  teach  or  explain.  The  traveller  sometimes  accidentally 
meets  with  other  evidences  of  the  silent  but  effective  influences  of 
English  education.  I  remember,  for  example,  visiting  with  my 
friend  a  heathen  temple  in  Southern  India.  It  was  a  great  day, 
on  which  festive  crowds  had  assembled  to  do  honour  to  a  fiimous 
Guru.  There  were  some  thousands  within  and  Avithout  the  temple. 
While  seeking  to  obtain  an  entrance,  we  were  surrounded  by  an 
eager  and  inquisitive  crowd,  but  civil  and  courteous,  as  we  ever 
found  the  natives  to  be.  Soon  we  were  addressed  in  good  English 
by  a  native,  and  then  by  about  a  dozen  more  who  were  taking 
part  in  the  ceremonies  of  the  place.  After  some  conversation  I 
asked  them,  the  crowd  beyond  this  inner  circle  listening  to  but  not 
comprehending  us,  whether  they  believed  in  all  this  idolatry  ? 
One,  speaking  for  the  rest,  said,  *  We  do.'  But  from  his  smikv 
and  knowing  the  effects  of  such  education  as  he  had  evidently 
acquired,  I   said   kindly   to  him,    '  My    friend,   I   candidly  tell  you 


APPENDIX.  411 

tlmt  I  don't  think  you  believe  a  bit  of  it.'  He  laughed,  and  snid, 
'  You  are  right,  sir,  we  believe  nothing  !  '  '  What  ?  '  I  asked  ; 
*  nothing  ?  not  even  your  own  existence  ?  '  '  Oh  yes,  we  believe 
that,'  he  replied.  'And  no  existence  higher  than  your  own  ?' I 
continued  to  inquire.  '  Yes,'  he  said,  '  we  believe  in  a  great 
God  who  has  created  all  things.'  '  But  if  so,  why  then  this 
idolatry?'  I  asked  again.  'We  wish  to  honour  our  fathers,' 
said  another  of  the  group  to  my  question.  On  which  the  first 
speaker  addressed  his  countryman,  saying,  '  What  did  your  fathers 
ever  do  for  you  ?  Did  they  give  you  the  steam-engine,  or 
the  railway,  or  the  telegraph  ? '  Then  turning  to  me,  he  said, 
with  a  smile,  '  Though  we  must  keep  up  and  cannot  forsake 
these  national  customs  while  they  exist  in  our  country,  and  our 
people  believe  in  them,  yet,  if  you  educate  the  people  they  will 
give  them  up  of  themselves,  and  so  they  will  pass  away.'  What- 
ever may  have  been  the  intention  of  the  speaker,  I  believe  this 
conversation  gives  a  fair  impression,  not  of  the  deepest  and  most 
earnest  minds  in  Hindostan,  but  of  the  mind  of  the  ordinary  pupil 
who  has  received  an  EngUsh  education,  though  little  more.  It  is 
thus,  however,  that  all  things  are  working  together  for  the  ultimate 
conversion  of  India  to  the  truth  and  life  of  Christianity  under 
Him  who  is  the  Head  of  all  things  to  His  Church. 

"  In  endeavouring  to  sketch,  however  rapidly  and  imperfectly,  the 
general  results  of  all  the  combined  forces  I  have  alluded  to,  I  must 
not  omit  to  notice  the  religious  school  of  the  Bralnno  Soniaj.  The 
educated  and  more  enlightened  Hindoos  occupy  almost  every 
position  of  religious  belief  between  that  of  a  little  less  thiiu  pure 
Brahmanism  and  a  little  less  than  pure  Christianity.  Some  defend 
idolatry  as  being  a  mere  outward  symbolic  worship  of  the  one 
God  everywhere  the  same,  and  also  as  a  national  custom  ;  and, 
without  opposing  Christianity,  they  would  have  it  remain  as  one  of 
many  other  religions,  asking,  as  has  been  done  indignantl}'  and  in 
the  name  of  '  Christianity  which  preaches  love  to  one's  enemies,' 
'  Why  should  the  God  of  Jesus  Christ  be  at  daggers-drawing  with 
the  Gods  of  heathendom  ?  "  Others  are  more  enlightened  and 
more  sincere.  Of  these,  the  greatest  undoubtedly  w.is  the  late 
Bajah  Rammohun  Roy,  one  of  the  most  learned  and  accomplished 
men  in  India.  In  order  to  obtain  a  religion  at  once  true  and 
national,  he  fell  back  on  the  Vedas  as  embodying  a  pure  Mono- 
theism, rejecting  at  the  same  time  the  authority  of  all  later  Hindoo 
books,  however  venerable,  from  the  heroic  Mahabharat  and  Rama- 
yana  down  to  the  Puranas.  He  did  not,  however,  despise  or  reject 
the   New   Testament,  but  gathered  from   it   and   published   '  The 


4^2  APPENDIX. 

Precepts  of  Jesus  tbc  Guide  to  Happiness.'  He  called  his  Church, — 
for  his  followers  were  organised  into  a  society  which  met  for  wor- 
ship,— '  Tbe  Brahmo  '  (the  neuter  impersonal  name  for  the  supreme) 

•  Shabha,'  now  changed  into  'Soraaj,'  or  assembly.  Thj  posi- 
tion thus  occupied  by  the  Pmjah  is  yet  to  a  large  extent  maintained 
by  the  representatives  of  the  old  Hindoo  Conservative  parly, 
whether  their  Church  is  called  the  '  Yeda  Somaj,'  or  '  Prathana 
Soma].'  But  the  Vedas  having  been  found  untenable  by  others, 
as  tending  necessarily  to  pure  Pantheism,  a  religious  system  with 
better  ioundations  was  accordingly  sought  for,  and  af  or  in  vain 
endeavouring    to  discover  it   in   '  Nature,'   or  to  evolve   it    from 

*  Intuition,'  the  new  movement  has,  under  the  guidance  of 
Keshub  Chnnder  Sen,  approached  Christianity.  After  having 
heard  that  distinguished  man  preach,  and  having  seen  the  response 
given  to  his  teaching  by  his  splendid  audience,  numbering  the 
most  enlightened  natives  as  well  as  Europeans  in  Calcutta,  and 
after  having  had  a  very  pleasing  conversation  Avith  him,  I  cannot 
but  indulge  the  hope,  from  his  sincerity,  his  earnestness,  as  well 
as  from  his  logic,  that  in  the  end  he  will  be  led  to  accept  the 
whole  truth  as  it  is  in  Jesus.  But  of  one  thing  I  feel  profoundly 
convinced,  that  the  Brahma  Somaj,  which  numbers  thousands  of 
adherents,  is  to  be  attributed  indirectly  to  the  teaching  and  labours 
of  Christian  missionai'ies  ;  and  its  existence,  in  spite  of  all  I  have 
read  and  heard  against  it,  brightens  my  hopes  of  India's  future. 

"  I  would  here  remind  you  of  facts  in  the  history  of  the 
Church  in  past  ages  as  worthy  of  being  remembered,  in  order  to 
modify  the  eager  desires  of  the  too  sanguine  as  to  immediate 
results,  and  to  cheer  the  hopes  of  the  too  desponding  as  to 
future  results,  as  well  as  to  check  the  rash  conclusions  of  thosf 
who,  arguing  from  the  past  history  of  a  few  years,  prophesy  no 
results  at  all  in  the  ages  to  come.  As  signs  of  the  progress  of 
that  religion  which,  through  the  seed  of  Abraham,  was  in  the  end 
to  bless,  and  is  now  blessing  all  nations,  what  conversions, 
let  me  ask,  were  made  from  the  days  of  Abraham  to  the  Exodus  ? 
How  many  during  the  long  night  in  Egypt  ?  Yet,  each  of  these 
intervals  represents  a  period  as  long  as  what  separates  us  from  the 
day  when  the  first  Englishman  visited  the  shores  of  India,  or 
■when  the  Church  sprang  into  renewed  life  at  the  Reformation. 
What,  again,  of  results  during  the  brief  period,  yet  so  full  of 
teaching,  under  Moses,  accompanied  by  such  mighty  signs  and 
wonders,  when  the  Church  was  in  the  wilderness  ?  Why,  on 
entering  the  land  of  promise,  two  men  only  represented  the  faith 
of  all  who  had  left  idolatrous  Egypt  ?     And  yet,  when  it  looked 


APPEADIX.  413 

as  if  all  was  lost,  God  spake  these  words,  '  As  truly  as  I  live, 
all  the  earth  shall  be  filled  with  the  glory  of  the  Lord.'  Recollect, 
too,  what  long  periods  of  confusion  and  darkness  followed  the 
settlement  of  the  tribes  in  Palestine.  The  experiment,  if  I  may 
so  call  it,  seemed  to  have  utterly  failed  of  educating  a  peculiar 
people,  and  so  prf^paring  it  for  the  ulterior  work  of  converting  the 
world.  That  chosen  race  ended  in  captivity  in  the  country  from 
whence  Abraham,  its  father,  began  in  faith,  his  journey  fourteen 
centuries  before.  Nevertheless,  that  race  did  its  work  at  last ! 
The  first  forms  of  its  religious  faith  yet  live,  being  cleansed  from 
all  idolatry  since  the  time  of  the  Captivity,  but  since  that  time 
only ;  and  Christianity,  as  its  flower  and  fruit,  lives,  and,  after 
marvellous  and  strange  vicissitudes,  is  grown  into  a  mighty  tree 
whose  leaves  are  for  the  healing  of  the  nations,  and  which  is 
destined  to  be  the  one  tree  of  life  for  the  whole  world.  And  so 
this  feature  in  historv  constantly  repeats  itself — a  time  of  activity 
and  repose,  of  wintev  a,nd  summer,  of  sleep  and  waking,  of  death 
and  resurrection  ;  a  time  of  long  and  varied  preparations,  with  not 
unfrequently  very  rapid  fulfilments,  like  sudden  outbursts  of  a  long- 
seething  flood,  or  volcano  ;  while  these  fulfilments  become  again 
beginnings  of  a  new  and  as  varied  a  course  in  history,  ever  accu- 
mulating blessings  for  the  whole  family  of  man. 

"  Having  thus  spoken  generally  of  missions  in  India  and  their 
results,  I  must  proceed  more  particularly  to  the  consideration  of 
the  various  methods  adopted  by  missionaries  for  Christianising  the 
Hindoos. 

"  But,  before  we  can  reply  satisfactorily  to  the  question  regarding 
means,  we  must  first  have  a  still  clearer  apprehension  of  the  nature 
of  the  end  to  be  attained  by  them,  involving  some  knowledge  of 
the  Hindoo  religion  as  a  sj'stem  of  belief  and  of  social  life.  H  we 
do  so,  we  shall  soon  learn  that  we  cannot,  as  is  too  often  done, 
class  Hindoos  with  other  heathens  (whether  in  India  or  beyond 
its  shores),  nor  argue  from  what  has  been  done  by  this  or  that 
instrumentality  in  the  Sandwich  Islands,  for  example,  or  in  Africa, 
Burmah,  or  even  Tinnevelly,  that  the  same  instrumentality  will 
necessarily  be  as  efi'ectual  in  Calcutta  or  Benares.  It  is  admitted, 
of  course,  that  among  all  races  and  in  all  countries  the  Trulh,  as 
revealed  by  Jesus  Christ,  is  the  one  grand  means  of  Christian- 
ising them  ;  but  the  practical  question  before  us  is,  What  is  the 
best  way  of  communicating  this  truth  in  certain  given  circuni 
stances  ?  Now,  to  obtain  the  true  answer  to  this  questiuu 
necessitates  other  questions  regarding  the  character,  habits,  and 
beliefs  of  the  people  we  have  to  deal  with,  and  regarding  those 


414  APPENDIX. 

peculiar  circumstances,  within  and  without,  in  which  they  aro 
placed,  which  must  materially  affect  their  reception  of  Christian 
doctrine  and  life. 

"With  the  risk,  therefore,  of  repeating  to  some  extent  what,  as 
bearing  on  other  parts  of  my  subject,  I  have  already  alluded  to, 
let  me  direct  your  attention  more  particularly  and  more  fully  than 
I  have  yet  done  to  some  of  those  characteristics  of  the  Hindoos 
which  distinguish  them  from  every  other  people  in  India  or  in  the 
world.  Observe,  in  the  tirst  place,  that  they  are  a  distinct  race. 
I  have  already  said  that  various  races  make  up  the  population  of  the 
great  continent  of  Hindostan.  The  Hindoo  belongs  to  that  Indo- 
Gernianic  or  Aryan  stream  of  which  we  ourselves  arc  a  branch,  and 
which  has  flowed  over  the  world.  It  entered  India  from  the  north- 
west, and  advanced,  during  long  ages  of  the  far  past,  towards  its 
southern  plains.  It  found  there  other  and  older  races,  who  either 
fled  to  the  mountains  and  jungles  to  maintain  their  freedom,  or 
were  conquered  and  degraded  into  Sudras  or  Pariahs,  without 
caste  or  social  position.  These  Aryans,  like  a  lava  flood,  poured 
themselves  over  the  land,  breaking  through  the  older  formations, 
overlying  them  or  suriounding  them,  but  never  utterly  obliterating 
or  absorbing  them.  Now  it  is  not  with  those  al)()riginal  races — 
who,  though  i^robably  once  possessing  a  higher  civilisation,  are 
now  comparative  savages,  and  have  religions  peculiar  to  them- 
selves, such  as  the  Bheels,  Khonds,  Santals,  Coles,  <fcc. — that  we 
have  at  present  to  do  ;  nor  yet  with  racps  of  low  caste  or  no 
caste,  like  the  Shanars  of  Tinnevelly,  the  Mairs  of  Ahmednugger, 
or  the  lower  population  still  of  Chamba.  But  it  is  of  this  Hindoo 
race,  whose  religion  is  Brahmanism,  and  which,  above  all  others, 
constitute  the  people  of  India,  numbering  about  a  hundred  and  tifiy 
millions  of  its  inhabitants — it  is  of  them  only  I  at  present  speak  ; 
for  if  they  were  Christianised,  India  practically  would  be  so,  but 
not  otherwise.  That  lofty,  unbending  portion  of  the  community, 
the  Mohammedan,  numbering  twenty  millions,  is  not  within  the 
scope  of  my  present  argument. 

"  Secondly,  we  must  not  forget  that  this  Hindoo  people  represent 
a  remarkable  civilisation,  which  they  have  inherited  from  a  time 
when  earth  was  young.  They  possess  a  language  (the  Sanscrit, 
the  earliest  cultivated)  which  scholars  tell  us  is  the  fullest,  the 
most  flexible  and  musical  in  existence,  to  which  Greek,  although 
its  child,  is  immensely  inferior ;  which  is  capable,  as  no  other  is, 
of  expressing  the  subtlest  thoughts  of  the  metaphysician,  and  the 
most  shadowy  and  transient  gleams  of  the  poet.  In  that  language 
tho  Hindoos  produced  a  heroic  and  philosophic  poetry,  centuries 


APPENDIX.  415 

before  the  Christian  era,  which  even  now  holds  a  foremost  place 
in  the  literature  of  the  world.  It  has  heen  asserted — I  know 
not  on  what  authority— that  they  were  proficient  in  astronomy 
long  ere  its  very  name  was  mentioned  by  the  Greeks ;  and  that 
in  comparatively  recent  times  they  solved  problems  in  algebi-a 
which  not  until  centuries  afterwards  dawned  on  the  acutest  minds  of 
modern  Europe.  When  we  add  to  this  a  structure  of  society — to 
which  I  shall  immediately  allude — so  compact  as  to  have  held 
together  for  more  than  two  thousand  years,  we  must  feel  admira- 
tion, if  not  for  their  physical,  at  least  for  their  intellectual  powers, 
and  acknowledge  that  we  have  here  no  rude  or  savage  people, 
but  a  highly  cultivated  and  deeply  interesting  portion  of  the 
human  family. 

"  Thirdly,  we  must  consider  the  re]\(j\on  of  the  Hindoos,  both  as 
a  creed  and  as  a  social  system,  with  its  effects  on  their  general 
temperament  and  habits  of  life. 

"  The  Hindoo  religion,  like  Judaism  and  Christianity,  is  one 
which  has  survived  the  revolutions  of  long  ages.  The  religions 
of  the  Greeks  and  Romans,  of  the  Egyptians,  Phoenicians,  and 
Assyrians,  with  many  others,  are  to  us  as  fossils'of  a  dead  world. 
Hindooism,  older  than  these,  still  exists  as  a  power  affecting  the 
destinies  of  teeming  millions.  We  can  gaze  upon  it  as  a  living 
specimen  of  one  out  of  many  of  the  monster  forms  which  once 
inhabited  the  globe.  Unlike  all  those  extinct  religions,  it  has  its 
sacred  books,  and  I  doubt  not  that  to  this  written  word  it  greatly 
owes  its  preservation.  These  books  have  been  written  at  intervals 
representing  vast  periods  of  history.  The  Vedas,  at  once  the 
most  ancient  and  the  most  pure  and  lofty,  date  as  fir  back, 
possibly,  as  the  time  of  Moses,  and  contain  many  true  and  sublime 
ideas  of  a  Divine  Being  without  'any  trace  of  the  peculiarities  of 
Brahmanism — nay,  declaring  positively  that  '  there  is  no  distinction 
of  castes.'  The  great  collection  of  the  Puranas  was  compiled  in 
the  middle  ages  of  our  era.  and  forms  the  real  everyday  'Bible' 
of  the  everyday  religion  of  Hindoos,  the  Vedas  being  now  known 
to  and  read  by  only  a  few  learned  pundits,  and  having  from  the 
first  been  a  forbidden  book  to  all  except  the  priesthood.  Now, 
these  Puranas  are  one  mass  of  follies  and  immoralities,  of  dream- 
ing pantheism,  of  degrading  and  disgusting  idolatry. 

"  Mr.  Wheeler,  in  his  recently  published  volume,  the  first  of  his 
*  History  of  India,'  thus  writes  of  the  great  epics  of  Maha  Bharata, 
or  the  great  war  of  Bharata,  and  the  Ramayana,  or  '  Adventures 
of  Rama,'  with  their  present  influence  on  the  Hindoos.  It  is  hik 
opinion,  I  may  state,  that  while  the  events  recorded  in  these  epics 


4l6 


APPENDIX. 


liclonc,'  (o  tLe  Vodic  period,  tbcir  composition  belonj^s  to  the  Brah- 
nijinic  !i\'e,  when  caste  was  introduced,  a  new  religion  established, 
and  the  Brahmaus  bad  formed  themselves  into  a  powerful  eccle- 
siastical hierarchy,  and  when,  instead  of  the  old  Vedic  gods  and 
forms  of  faith,  Brahma,  Vishnu,  and  Siva  took  their  place.  These 
epics  are,  practically,  to  the  Hindoos,  religious  poems,  and  con- 
sequently are  the  most  powerful  and  popular  props  to  Brahman- 
isro.  '  Few  Hindoos,'  writes  Mr.  Wheeler,  '  may  perhaps  be 
acquainted  with  the  whole  of  these  epics,  and  none  have  ventured 
to  suliject  them  to  a  critical  analysis  and  investigation  ;  yet  their 
influence  upon  the  masses  of  the  people  is  beyond  calculation,  and 
infinitely  greater  and  more  universal  than  the  influence  of  the 
Bible  over  modern  Europe.  The  leading  incidents  and  scenes  are 
familiar  to  the  Hindoos  from  childhood.  They  are  frequently 
represented  at  village  festivals,  whilst  the  stories  are  chanted  about 
at  almost  every  social  gathering,  and  indeed  form  the  leading  topic 
of  conversation  amongst  Hindoos  generally,  and  espe  ially  amongst 
those  who  have  passed  the  meridian  of  life.  In  a  word,  these  poems 
are  to  the  Hindoos  all  that  the  Library,  the  Newspaper,  and  the 
Bible  are  to  the  European;  whilst  the  books  themselves  are 
regarded  with  a  superstitious  reverence,  which  far  exceeds  that 
which  has  ever  been  accorded  to  any  other  revelation  real  or 
supposed.  To  this  day  it  is  the  common  belief  that  to  peruse  or 
merely  to  listen  to  the  perusal  of  the  Maha  Bharata  or  Ramayana, 
will  insure  prosperity  in  this  world  and  eternal  happiness  here- 
after.' Now,  making  every  allowance  for  (what  appears  to  me  to 
be)  the  exaggerated  terms  in  which  Mr.  Wheeler  describes  the 
comparative  influence  of  the  Bible  and  these  '  Scriptures,' 
there  can  be  no  doubt  that,  as  far  as  India  is  concerned,  he  is 
correct. 

"  This  religion,  as  embodied  in  its  Sacred  Books,  afl"ords  the 
widest  scope  for  the  indulgence  of  every  phase  of  human  thought, 
sentiment,  and  passion;  furnishing  as  it  does  in  the  Vedic  hymns 
and  poetry  an  atmosphere  so  rare,  and  presenting  such  shadowy 
heights  of  speculation,  as  to  tempt  the  most  ambitious  wing  to  put 
forth  its  powers  to  gain  their  summits  ;  an.l  furnishing  in  the 
Puranns  the  vilest  mire,  where  the  filthiest  and  most  obscene  may 
wallow.  Among  its  disciples,  the  dreamy  ascetic,  labouring  to 
emancipate  his  spirit  by  pure  nuditation  and  the  destruction  of  the 
material  flesh,  and  the  profound  scholar,  rare  though  he  bo, 
nourishing  his  intellectual  life  by  the  abstract  themes  and  endless 
speculative  questions  suggested  by  his  creed,  may  meet  with  the 
disgusting  faqucer  or  yogi,  with  the  ignorant  millions  who  care  lor 


APPENDIX.  A17 

notbing  but  a  round  of  dead  superstitious  observances,  or  with  the 
cunning  or  depraved  crew  who  indulge  in  the  vilest  practices  as  the 
natural  results  of  their  heathen  principles. 

"  Lastly,  it  is  in  its  social  aspects,  as  already  hinted,  that 
Brabmanism  manifests  its  intense,  comprehensive,  and  tyrannous 
power.  Its  system  of  caste  presents  to  us  a  feature  in  the  organi- 
zation of  human  beings  unparalleled  in  history.  It  must  not  be 
mistaken  for  a  mere  ai'istocratic  arrangement,  as  accidental  to  or 
lying  outside  of  Brabmanism,  but  it  is  an  essential  element  of  its 
very  being.  It  is  quite  true,  as  I  have  said,  and  the  fact  is  of 
importance,  that  the  Vedas  know  nothing  of  it;  but  then  the 
people  know  not  the  Vedas,  and  those  Avho  do  conceal  or  pervert 
their  teaching.  According  to  the  existing  and,  as  long  as  Brab- 
manism lives,  unalterable  lielief  of  the  people,  tbe  streams  of  caste, 
flowing  side  by  side  but  never  mingling,  are  traced  up  to  the  very 
fountain  of  Deity ;  or,  to  change  the  simile,  each  great  caste 
is  believed  to  be  a  development  of  the  very  body  of  Brahma  the 
Creator,  and  is  mystically  united  to  him  as  parts  of  his  very  flesh 
and  bones.  Hence  no  one  can  become  a  Hindoo  in  religion  who 
is  not  one  by  birth  ;  nor  can  any  member  belonging  to  this  divine 
body  break  his  caste  without  thereby  becoming  dead,  as  a  limb 
amputated  from  living  communion  with  the  source  of  life,  and 
therefore  to  be  thrown  away  as  a  curse,  a  reproach — a  polluted, 
horrible  thing,  to  be  hated  and  disowned.  Marvellous,  indeed,  are 
tbe  power  and  endurance  of  such  an  organization  as  this,  that  can 
dominate  over  all  those  political  and  social  changes  which,  in  other 
respects,  alter  the  relative  position  of  its  possessors  as  to  wealth  or 
rank,  whether  in  tbe  army  or  in  the  civil  service. 

"  But  Brabmanism  does  more  than  make  each  man  a  member  of 
this  compact  mass.  Having  fixed  him  there,  it  holds  him  fast,  and 
governs  him  as  a  mere  thing  in  which  no  personality,  and  con- 
sequently no  will,  is  recognised,  save  that  measure  which  is 
required  to  consent  to  the  destruction  of  bis  being,  or  its  subordi- 
nation, at  least,  to  a  system  of  mechanical  rules  that  fashion  his 
whole  inward  and  outward  life.  As  far  almost  as  it  is  possible  to 
conceive,  that  life  is  in  everything  and  every  day  the  obedient  slave 
of  '  religion ; '  not,  of  course,  in  tbe  sense  which  we  attach  to  the 
expression — that  of  ail  things  being  done,  endured,  or  enjoyed  in  a 
right  spirit,  or  according  to  the  rule  of  eternal  righteousness 
towards  God  and  man — but  according  to  fixed  authoritative  rules, 
professing  to  embrace  tbe  whole  life,  obedience  to  which  is  as 
mechanical  as  can  be  yielded  by  a  human  being.  For  to  the 
religious  Hindoo  all  that  is  to  be  beUeved  and  done  on  earth  is 

VOL.  II.  E  E 


41 8  APPENDIX. 

revealed,  and  ns  such  is  obligatory.  All  the  arts  and  sciences  ; 
the  methods  of  every  trade ;  the  manifold  duties  incumbent  ou  the 
architect,  the  mason,  the  carpenter,  or  the  musician,  and  on  the 
member  of  the  family  or  community — what  ought  to  be  done  upon 
ordinary  days  and  on  holy  days  ;  in  youth,  in  manhood,  and  in  old 
age ;  in  health  and  sickness,  and  in  the  hour  of  death  ;  and  what 
ought  to  be  done  for  those  who  are  dead,  llules  are  prescribed  to 
him  as  a  sinner  or  a  saint,  in  joy  or  in  sorrow  ;  directing  him  how 
to  act  towards  superiors,  inferiors,  and  equals  ;  towards  priests  and 
princes  ;  towards  all  men  on  earth,  and  towards  all  the  gods  on 
earth  and  in  the  heavens.  No  polype,  in  the  vast  gelatinous  mass 
which  contributes  to  the  building  up  of  a  great  island  from  the 
deep,  can  be  more  a  part  of  that  mysterious  whole  than  an  orthodox 
Hindoo  is  of  this  marvellous  religious  brotherhood.  His  indivi- 
duality is  lost.  His  conscience,  will,  and  aflections  are  in  the 
strong  grasp  of  habits  and  customs  sanctioned  by  Divine  authority, 
consecrated  by  the  faith  of  his  race,  and  made  venei'able  by  a 
hoary  antiquity.  And,  wbat  might  seem  very  strange  to  us  if  we 
could  not  point  to  parallel  phases  of  human  nature  within  even  the 
Church  of  Christ,  this  slavery  is  not  disliked  or  felt  to  be  a  heavy 
burden — a  *  bondage  to  the  elements  of  the  world' — but,  on  the 
contrary,  is  clung  to  with  a  desperate  tenacity.  The  elements 
which  give  this  undyiiig  vigour  to  caste  may  possibly  be  fouud  not 
chiefly  in  sloth  and  indifierence,  or  in  the  supposed  deliverance 
which  it  afi'urds  from  the  irksome  sense  of  personal  responsibility, 
but  in  its  recognition  of  two  great  principles  in  social  life,  which, 
though  in  this  case  perverted,  are  adjusted  by  the  Christian  creed 
and  a  true  Christian  Church  ;  the  first,  that  our  place  in  the  world 
is  assigned  to  us  by  Divine  sovereignty  ;  and  the  second,  that  the 
co-operation  and  sympathy  of  a  brotherhood  are  essential  to  our 
usefulness  and  happiness  in  the  world.  AVhatever  be  the  secret  of 
its  strength,  it  is  profoundly  interesting  to  gaze  on  this  gigantic 
system  existing  like  the  Great  Pyramid — each  stone  in  its  place, 
firmly  cemented  into  the  vast  whole,  towering  over  the  arid  plain, 
defying  hitherto  the  attacks  of  time,  which  destroys  all  that  is 
perishable — an  object  of  wonder  because  of  its  magnitude  and 
power  of  endurance,  yet  hollow-hearted  withal,  and  preserving 
only  the  dust  of  ages. 

"And  yet  even  this  tremendous  system  of  caste  is  not  wholly 
antagonistic  to  the  eflbrts  of  the  Christian  Church.  -Its  very 
strength  may  at  last  prove  its  weakness.  If  on  the  side  of  wrong 
it  '  moveth  all  together  if  it  move  at  all,'  it  may  do  so  also  on  the 
Kide  of  right.     Let  the  wall  be  so  far  sapped  that  it  must  fall,  it 


APPENDIX.  4.iq 

will  do  so,  not  by  crumbling  down  in  minute  fragments,  or  even  in 
separate  masses,  but  as  a  whole.  If  the  great  army  mutinies 
against  Brahmanism,  it  will  desert,  not  in  units,  but  en  vwsse. 

"  It  is  with  this  system  that  we  have  in  the  mean  time  to  deal ; 
and  it  may  well  nerve  a  Christian's  courage,  and  make  him  examine 
his  weapons,  test  his  armour,  and  carefully  calculate  his  resources 
of  power  and  patience,  of  faith  and  love,  ere  he  enters,  with  a  zeal 
which  can  be  vindicated  and  a  hope  that  will  not  be  put  to  shame, 
on  the  grand  enterprise  of  substituting  pure  Christianity  in  its 
place.  I  hesitate  not  to  express  the  opinion  that  no  such  battle 
has  ever  before  been  given  to  the  Church  of  God  to  fight  since 
history  began,  and  that  no  victory,  if  gained,  will  be  followed  by 
greater  consequences.  It  seems  to  me  as  if  the  spiritual  conquest 
of  India  was  a  work  reserved  for  these  latter  days  to  accomplish, 
because  requiring  all  the  previous  dear-bought  experiences  of  the 
Church,  and  all  the  preliminary  education  of  the  world,  and  that, 
when  accomplished — as  by  the  help  of  the  living  Christ  it  shall  ! — 
it  will  be  a  very  Armageddon ;  the  last  great  battle  against  every 
form  of  unbelief,  the  last  fortress  of  the  enemy  stormed,  the  last 
victory  gained  as  necessary  to  secure  the  unimpeded  progress  and 
the  final  triumph  of  the  world's  regeneration  ! 

"  In  these  statements  regarding  Brahmanism  I  have  said  nothing 
of  its  eflects  upon  the  morals  of  the  people,  although  this  is  a  most 
important  aspect  of  it,  not  only  as  producing  habits  congenial  to 
human  depravity,  but  as  raising  the  most  formidable  obstacles 
against  the  reception  of  Christianity  even  as  a  pure  and  uncom- 
promising system  of  morals.  Kot  that  we  would  charge  the  actual 
vices  of  a  people  to  their  religion,  unless,  as  in  the  case  before  us, 
these  could  be  proved  to  be  the  necessary  and  legitimate  con- 
sequences of  faith  in  its  teaching,  and  of  obedience  to  its  enjoined 
obssrvances  and  practices.  As  far,  indeed,  as  the  observation  of 
the  ordinary  traveller  goes,  I  am  bound  to  say,  as  the  result  of  our 
own  very  limited  experience,  that  nothing  meets  the  eye  or  ear  in 
any  way  offensive  to  good  manners  throughout  India,  not  even  in 
its  temples,  unless  it  be  in  symbols  for  worship  to  which  I  cannot 
allude,  and  the  influence  of  which  on  the  worshippers  it  is  difficult 
for  any  stranger  to  determine,  not  knowing  even  how  far  their 
significance  is  understood  by  the  multitude.  I  must  therefore  refer 
to  others  better  acquainted  with  India  to  say  what  its  moral 
condition  is  as  flowing  positively  from  its  religion.  But  I  have  no 
doubt  whatever  myself,  from  all  I  have  heard,  that,  except  where 
afl'ected  by  European  influence,  it  is,  among  both  Hindoos  and 
Mohammedans,  as  a  rule,  far  below  what  is  generally  supposed. 

E  E  2 


420  APPEXDIX. 

In  spite  of  that  amount  of  morality,  and  the  play  of  those  affections 
among  IViunds  and  the  members  of  the  family,  without  which 
society  could  not  bang  together  ;  and  while  I  refuse  to  believe  that 
there  are  not,  among  such  a  mass  of  human  beings,  some  true 
light  and  life  received  from  Him  who  is  the  Father  of  light,  in  ways 
we  wot  not  of  and  may  never  discover ;  yet  I  have  no  doubt  that 
the  description  of  heathendom  as  existing  in  the  latter  period 
of  Roman  life,  and  as  described  by  St.  Paul  in  the  beginning  of  his 
Epistle  to  the  Romans,  is  true  to  a  fearful  extent  of  India.  Facts, 
besides,  have  come  out  in  trials  showing  how  '  religion,'  so  called, 
may  bpcome  the  source  of  the  most  hideous  abominations,  for 
which  it  is  righteously  chargeable.  Immortal  man"  is  seldom  so 
degraded  as  not  to  seek  some  apparently  good  reason,  and  in  the 
holy  name  of  "  religion  "  too,  for  doing  the  worst  things.  Thus  the 
Thug  strangles  his  victim  as  he  prays  to  the  goddess  of  murder; 
and  the  member  of  a  hereditary  band  of  robbers  consecrates  his 
services  to  the  goddess  of  rapine. 

"  Rut  enough  has  been  said  to  give  some  idea  of  Rrahmanism,  and 
we  are  thus  better  prepared  to  entertain  the  question  as  to  the 
nierDis  by  which  it  can  be  destroyed,  and  Christianity,  with  its 
truth,  holiness,  brotherhood,  and  peace,  take  its  place. 

"As  to  the  question  of  vieaiis,  I  assume  that,  as  a  Church  of 
Christ,  we  are  at  liberty  to  adopt  any  means  whatever,  in  consist- 
ency with  the  spirit  of  the  Gospel  and  the  holy  ends  we  have  in 
view,  which,  according  to  our  knowledge  as  derived  from  the 
Word  of  God,  interpreted  by  sound  judgment  and  experience,  we 
believe  best  calculated  to  accomplish  those  ends.  The  example  of 
the  Apostles  as  recorded  in  the  Book  of  Acts,  that  missionary 
history  of  the  early  Church,  and  in  the  letters  of  the  great  mis- 
sionary St.  Paul,  however  precious  to  us  and  invaluable  as  a 
repository  of  facts  and  principles,  can  never  bind  us  to  adopt  the 
very  same  methods  in  our  day  in  India,  if  it  were  even  possible  for 
us  to  do  so,  as  were  adopted  by  the  Apostles  in  the  Asia  Minor  or 
Europe  of  their  day,  unless  it  can  be  shown  that  the  fields  in  both 
cases  are  so  far  similar  as  to  admit  of  a  similar  mode  of  cultivation 
in  order  to  secure  that  crop  which  the  Christian  missionaries  of 
every  age  desire  and  labour  to  obtain.  St.  Paul  had  nothing  like 
the  heathenism  of  India,  in  its  social  aspects  or  vast  extent,  to  deal 
with.  But  we  shall  be  fellow'- labourers  with  him  if  we  understand 
his  *  ways,'  *  manner  of  life,'  and  possess  his  spirit.  Let  us  only, 
as  far  as  possible,  endeavour  to  share  what,  without  irreverence 
for  his  inspired  authority,  I  may  venture  to  call  his  grand  compre- 
hensive common-sense — his  clear  eye  in  discerning  the  real  plan  of 


APPENDIX.  421 

battle,  and  all  that  was  essential  to  success — his  firm  and  unfal- 
tering march  to  the  centre  of  the  enemy's  position,  in  the  best  way 
practicable  in  the  given  place  and  time — his  determination  to 
become  all  things  to  all  men,  limited  only,  yet  expanded  also,  by 
the  holy  and  unselfish  aim  of  '  gaining  some,'  not  to  himself,  but 
to  Christ;  and,  in  doing  so,  we  shall  not  miss  the  best  methods  of 
Christianising  India.     Right  men  will  make  the  right  methods. 

"  In  reviewing  the  various  mission  agencies  at  work  in  India,  we 
may  at  once  lay  aside  the  consideration  of  minor  methods — such, 
for  example,  as  that  of  orphanages,  male  and  feuiale  :  for,  whatever 
blessings  may  be  bestowed  by  thom  as  charitable  institutions, 
or  whatever  advantages — and  there  are  many  such — may  be 
derived  from  them  as  furnishing  Christian  teachers  for  male,  and, 
above  all,  for  female  schools  ;  and  colporteurs  or  catechists,  to  aid 
missionaries ;  or  as  providing  wives  for  Christian  converts,  who 
could  neither  seek  nor  obtain  any  alliances  from  among  the 
'castes;' — nevertheless,  these  institutions,  however  multiplied 
and  however  successful,  cannot,  in  my  opinion,  tell  on  the  ultimate 
conversion  of  the  bulk  of  the  Hindoos  proper,  more  than  so  many 
orphans  taken  from  Europe  would  do  if  trained  and  taught  in  the 
same  way.  I  am  not  to  be  understood  as  objecting  to  orphanages, 
more  especially  v/hen  they  are,  as  with  us,  generously  supported 
by  the  contributions  of  the  young  at  home,  and  not  paid  for  out 
of  the  general  funds  of  the  Mission.  Yet  I  would  not  have  you 
attach  undue  importance  to  the  baptism  of  orphans  as  telling 
upon  Ilindooism,  or  to  weigh  their  number — as,  alas  !  I  have 
heard  done  in  Scot'anl — against  those  connected  with  our  great 
educational  institutic  12s,  to  the  disparagement  of  the  latter  as 
compared  with  the  forme  •.  It  seems  to  me  that  it  would  be  just 
as  wise  as  if,  in  seeking  to  convert  the  Jews,  we  imagined  that  the 
baptism  of  any  number  of  orphan  Jews  within  a  charitable  houso 
of  refuge  would  tell  as  much  on  Judaism  as  the  education  of  a 
thousand  intelligent  young  Rabbis  in  a  Christian  college,  if  such  a 
blessing  were  possible,  in  the  intensely  bigoted  towns  of  Saphet  or 
Tiberias. 

"  Nor  need  I  discuss  here  what  has  been  or  what  maybe  accom- 
plished by  the  dissemination  of  the  Bible  and  an  etfective  Christian 
literature,  and  other  similar  details  of  mission  work,  the  excellence 
of  which  is  obvious  and  admitted,  but  I  will  confine  myself  to  what 
have  been  called  the  preaching  and  the  teaching  systems,  protest- 
ing, however,  against  this  erroneous  classification,  and  accepting  it 
only  as  the  best  at  hand. 

"  When  we  speak  oi peachiiuj  the  Gospel  to  the  natives  of  India, 


42  2  API' EX D IX. 

I  cxcliulo  tlinso  v  ho  liave  received  an  Enjxlish  education,  for  as 
regards  prcacbiug  to  t\iem  there  can  be  no  doulit  or  question.  Nor 
hy  iireacliing  do  I  mean  the  giving  of  addresses  in  cliurches  to 
native  congregations,  but  addressing  all  who  will  hear,  whether  in 
the  streets,  bazaars,  or  anywhere  else.  And  unquestionably  there 
tire  dilKculties  in  the  way  of  thus  preaching  which  are  not,  I  think, 
sullicieutly  weighed  by  friends  of  missions  at  home.  We  must,  for 
example,  dispel  the  idea  that  tan  evangelist-,  when  addressing  per- 
sons in  the  sti'etts  of  a  city  in  heathen  India,  is  engaging  in  a 
work — except  in  its  mere  outward  aspects — like  that  of  an  '  evan- 
gelist' preaching  in  the  streets  or  fields  at  home  to  those  ignorant 
of  the  Gospel — although,  in  passing,  I  may  express  my  conviction 
that  even  at  home  such  efforts  are  more  unavailing  than  is  sup- 
posed, where  there  has  been  no  previous  instruction  of  some  kind. 
Outdoor  preaching  in  India,  as  it  often  is  at  home,  is  almost  uni- 
versally addressed  to  passing  and  ever-changing  crowds,  not  one  of 
whom  possil)ly  ever  heard  such  an  address  before,  or  will  hear  even 
this  one  calmly  to  the  end,  or  ever  hear  another.  In  no  case,  more- 
over, will  ihe  educated  and  influential  classes  listen  to  such 
preaching.  Consider,  also,  the  almost  utter  impossibility  of  giving, 
in  the  most  favourable  circumstances,  by  those  means,  anything 
like  a  true  idea  of  the  simplest  facts  of  the  Christian  religion  ; 
■while  to  treat  of  its  evidences  is,  of  course,  out  of  the  question. 
Should  the  evangelist  adopt  another  method  by  directly  appealing 
to  the  moral  instincts  of  his  hearers,  to  the  wants  of  their  immortal 
nature,  to  their  conscience,  their  sense  of  responsibility,  or  to  their 
eternal  hopes  and  fears,  seeking  thus  to  rouse  the  will  to  action, 
where,  we  ask,  are  all  those  subjective  conditions,  necessary  for 
the  reception  of  the  truth,  to  be  found  in  hearers  saturated  through 
their  whole  being  since  childhood  with  all  that  must  weaken,  per- 
vert, deaden,  and  almost  annihilate  what  we  assume  must  exist  in 
them  so  as  to  respond  at  once  to  truth  so  revealed  ? 

"These  difficulties  are  immensely  increased  when  we  learn,  more- 
over, that  there  is  not  a  single  term  which  can  be  used  in  preaching 
the  Gospel,  by  the  evangelist  who  is  most  master  of  the  language 
and  can  select  the  choicest  words  and  nicest  expressions,  but  has 
fixed  and  definite  though  false  ideas  attached  to  it  in  the  familiar 
theological  vocabulary  of  his  audience :  nor  can  it  be  transposed 
by  his  hearer,  without  long  and  patient  efforts,  into  the  totally 
opposite  and  Christian  ideas  attached  to  the  same  term.  We  speak 
of  one  God  ;  so  will  he  :  but  what  ideas  have  we  in  common  of 
His  character  and  attributes,  or  even  of  His  personality  and  unity? 
We  use  the  words  t>i>i,  sdlcatiun,  reijenerdliiDi,   holiness,   ((UdwdiciU, 


APPENDIX.  423 

ivcarna'ioii,  and  so  will  he  ;  but  each  term  rejiresents  to  him  aa 
old  and  familiar  falsehood  which  he  understands,  believes,  and 
clings  to,  and  which  fills  up  his  whole  eye,  blinding  it  to  the  per- 
ception of  Gospel  truths  altogether  different  although  expressed  by 
the  same  terms.  The  uneducated  thus  not  unfrequently  confuse 
even  the  name  of  our  Saviour,  Yishu  Khrishta,  with  IsJti  Khista,  a 
companion  of  their  god  Khristna  !  If  you  fairly  consider  such 
difficulties  as  these,  even  you  will  also  cease  to  wonder  at  tha 
almost  barren  results  from  preaching  alone  to  the  genuine  Hindoo 
as  distinct  from  low  caste  or  no  caste — and  that  the  most  earnest 
men  have  failed  to  make  any  decided  impression  on  the  mass,  any 
more  than  the  rain  or  light  of  heaven  do  on  the  solid  works  of  a 
fortress.  One  of  the  noblest  and  most  devoted  of  men,  Mr.  Boweu, 
of  Bombay,  whom  I  heard  thus  preach,  and  who  has  done  so  for  a 
quarter  of  a  century,  informed  me,  in  his  own  humble,  triithful 
way — and  his  case  is  not  singular,  except  for  its  patience  and 
earnestness — that,  as  far  as  he  knew,  he  had  never  made  one 
single  convert. 

"  But  while,  in  trying  to  estimate  the  most  likely  means  of  com- 
municating a  knowledge  of  Christianity  to  the  Hindoos,  I  would 
have  you  fairly  consider  the  difficulties  in  the  way  of  preaching 
only,  I  would  not  have  you  suppose  that  I  condemn  it  as  useless, 
even  although  it  has  made  few  converts  among  thinking  Hindoos 
apart  from  the  co-operative  power  of  education,  I  recognise  it 
rather  as  among  those  influences  which  in  very  many  ways  pre- 
pare for  the  brighter  day  of  harvest,  by  prompting  inquiry, 
removing  prejudices,  accustoming  people  to  the  very  terms  of  the 
Gospel,  causing  new  ideas  of  truth  to  enter  their  minds  in  some 
form,  however  crude  and  defective,  and  by  giving  impressions  of 
the  moral  worth  and  intellectual  power  of  earnest  and  able  mis- 
sionaries who  have  come  from  afar,  and  who  seek  with  so  much 
unselfishness,  patience,  and  love  to  do  good  to  their  fellow-men. 
By  all  these  means  we  must  also  ever  strive  and  hope  to  gain 
immediate  results,  as  some  preachers  have  done,  in  the  conversion 
of  sinners  towards  God.  Let  us  rejoice  in  believing  that  in  pro- 
portion as  education  of  every  kind  advances,  it  prepares  a  wider 
field  for  the  preacher,  if  the  seed  he  sows  as  '  the  Word '  is  to  be 
'  understood'  so  as  to  be  received  '  into  the  heart.' 

"  It  must,  I  think,  be  admitted  that,  up  to  the  period  at  which 
Christian  education  was  introduced  as  an  essential  element  of  mis- 
sionary labour  among  the  Hindoos,  every  attempt  to  make  any 
breach  in  the  old  fortress  had  failed,  h  remarkable  illustration  of 
this  fact  is  frankly  given  by  the  Abbe  Dubois.     He  was  an  able. 


42  4  APPENDIX. 

nocnniplishcd,  earnest,  and  honest  Koman  Catholic  missionary, 
Avho  had  laboured  for  a  quarter  of  a  century,  living  amont^  tlio 
people,  and  endeavouring  to  convert  them.  He  published  bis 
volume  in  1822,  and  in  it  gives  the  results  of  his  experience, 
summed  up  in  a  single  sentence — '  It  is  my  decided  opinion  that, 
under  existing  circumstances,  there  is  no  human  possibility  of  con 
verling  the  Hindoos  to  any  sect  of  Christianity.'  He  illustr.ites 
and  confirms  this  conclusion  by  the  peculiarities  of  the  Hindoo 
religion,  and  by  the  history  of  all  missionary  ell'orts  down  to  his 
own  day,  including  those  of  Xavier  and  the  Jesuits.  He  also  gives 
it  as  his  opinion  that,  '  as  long  as  we  are  unable  to  make  an 
impression  on  the  polished  part  of  the  nation  or  the  heads  of  public 
opinion — on  the  body  of  the  Brahmins,  in  short — there  remain  but 
very  faint  hopes  of  propagating  Christianity  among  the  Hindoos  ; 
and  as  long  as  the  only  result  of  our  labours  shall  be,  as  is  at 
present  the  case,  to  bring  into  our  respective  communions  here 
and  there  a  few  desperate  vagrants,  outcasts,  pariahs,  house- 
keepers, beggars,  and  other  persons  of  the  lowest  description,  such 
results  cannot  fail  to  be  detrimental  to  the  interests  of  Christianity 
among  a  people  who  in  all  circumstances  are  ruled  by  tho  force  of 
custom  and  example,  and  are  in  no  case  allowed  to  judge  for 
themselves.'  It  is  no  answer  to  this  picture  that  it  describes  the 
failure  of  Komanism  only  ;  for  it  holds  equally  true  cf  every  other 
ofl'ort  made  m  the  same  direction  and  among  the  same  people. 
The  Abbe  had  no  hope  whatever  of  the  difficulty  ever  being  mas- 
tered ;  but  thought  the  people,  for  their  lies  and  abominations, 
were  '  lying  under  an  everlasting  anathema.' 

"It  was  shortly  after  this  time  that  Christian  education,  although 
it  had  to  some  extent  been  adopted  previously  in  Western  India 
by  the  Americans,  was  systematically  and  vigorously  begun  in 
Bengal  by  the  Church  of  Scotland  as  the  best  means  of  making  an 
impression  upon  all  castes,  the  highest  as  well  as  the  lowest. 
This  educational  system,  associated  as  it  has  become  with  the 
name  of  Scotland,  is  one  of  which  our  Church  and  country  have 
reason  to  be  proud,  and  will  ever  be  connected  with  the  names  of 
Dr.  Inglis  as  having  planned  it,  and  Dr.  Dufl"  as  having  first  carried 
it  out.  It  is  surely  a  presumption  in  its  favour  that  eveiy  mission 
from  Great  Britain  which  has  to  do  with  the  same  class  of  people, 
has  now  adopted,  without  one  exception,  the  same  method  as  an 
essential  part  of  its  operations. 

"  Let  me  now  endeavour  to  explain  to  the  members  of  the  Church 
what  we  mean  by  the  education  system,  as  it  is  called,  with 
some  of  the  results  at  which  it  aims. 


APPENDIX.  425 

"  First  of  all,  a  secular  education,  so  termed,  thougb  in  this  case 
inaccurately,  is  given  in  our  missionary  institutions  equal  to  that 
given  by  any  seminary  in  India.  The  importance  and  value  of 
this  fact  arises  from  another — that  education,  especially  in  the 
knowledge  of  the  English  language  and  its  literature,  is  the  high- 
road to  what  is  all  in  all  in  the  estimation  of  a  Hindoo — Prefer- 
ment. The  opening  up  of  lucrative  situations,  and  of  important 
civil  offices  in  the  gift  of  Government,  and  the  passing  a  Univer- 
sity examination  by  every  applicant  for  them,  are  thus  linked  to- 
gether. The  privilege,  moreover,  of  being  presented  as  a  candi- 
date for  these  examinations  is  confined  to  those  schools  or  insti- 
tutions, missionary  or  others,  which  are  '  affiliated '  to  the 
University  or  Board  of  Examiners  in  each  Presidency  town,  which 
can  be  done  only  when  they  Imve  proved  their  fatness  to  give  the 
required  education,  and  are  willing  to  submit  to  Government 
inspection  as  far  as  their  mere  secular  teaching  is  concerned.  It 
is  for  this  kind  of  education,  and  for  these  ends  alone,  that  the 
Hindoo  youth  enters  a  mission  school.  I  need  hardly  say  that 
he  has  no  desire  to  obtain  by  so  doing  any  knowledge  of  Chris- 
tianity ;  his  willingness  to  encounter  which,  arising  not  from 
courage — of  which  be  has  little  or  none — but  from  self-confidence 
in  his  ability  to  despise,  if  not  its  arguments,  at  least  its  influence. 
When  a  mission  school  is  preferred  to  a  Government  one,  it  is 
probably  owing  to  the  fact  that  lower  fees  are  charged  in  the 
former  ;  and,  as  I  am  also  disposed  to  think,  from  the  life  and  power 
and  superior  teaching  necessarily  imparted  by  educated  mis- 
sionaries when  they  throv^r  their  whole  soul  into  their  work,  in- 
spired by  the  high  and  unselfish  aims  which  they  have  in  view. 
Be  this  as  it  may,  right  missionaries  can,  by  means  of  the  school, 
secure  a  large  and  steady  assemblage,  day  by  day,  of  from  500  to 
1,000  pupils,  representing  the  very  life  of  Hindoo  society,  eager  to 
obtain  education. 

"  While  to  impart  this  education  is  itself  a  boon,  and  an  indirect 
means  of  doing  much  real  good,  yet  by  itself  it  is  obviously  not 
that  kind  of  good  which  it  is  the  distinct  function  of  the  Christian 
missionary  to  confer.  His  work  is  to  teach  men  a  saving  know- 
ledge of  Jesus  Christ,  and  so  to  reconcile  them  to  their  God. 
Hence  instruction  in  the  Bible  as  the  record  of  God's  will  revealed 
to  man  specially  through  Jesus  Christ,  is  an  essential  part  of  his 
work,  and  distinguishes  his  school  from  every  other.  The  accept- 
ance on  the  part  of  the  pupil  of  this  direct  Christian  instruction, 
accompanied  by  all  that  can  be  done  by  the  missionary  to  make 
it  find   an   entrance  into  the  pupil's  heart,  and  to  keep  possession 


+26  APPENDIX. 

of  it,  is  a  nne  qua  noil  of  his  being  received  into  the  school,  and 
is  taken  by  him  with  his  eyes  open. 

"  Mere  teachhuj,  however,  whether  secular  or  Christian,  does  not 
adequately  express  what  is  included  in  the  idea  of  cducdtinn  as 
aimed  at  by  the  intelligent  and  efficient  missionary.  His  object  is, 
by  these  and  all  other  means  in  his  power — by  argument  and 
appeal — by  that  whole  personal  influence  emanating  from  head 
and  heart,  from  lip  and  eye — to  educate  the  Hindoo  mind  out  of 
all  that  is  weak,  perverted,  false,  and  vain,  into  truth  and  reality 
as  embodied  in  Christian  faith  and  life.  To  do  this  involves,  as  I 
have  tried  to  explain,  a  work  requiring  time  and  patience,  the 
nicest  liiuidling,  and  the  greatest  force.  To  quicken  a  conscience 
almost  dead  ;  to  waken  any  sense  of  personal  responsibility  almost 
annihilated  ;  to  give  any  strength  to  a  will  weak  and  powerless 
for  all  niimly  eflort  and  action  ;  to  open  the  long-closed  and  uimsed 
spiritual  eye,  anl  train  it  to  discern  the  unseen,  '  Him  who  is 
invisible  ; '  to  inspire  with  a  love  of  truth,  or  with  a  perception, 
however  faint,  of  the  unworthiness  and  vileness  of  falsehood,  a 
soul  which  has  never  felt  the  sen;.e  of  shame  in  lying,  and  seems 
ahaost  to  have  lost  the  power  of  knowing  what  it  means  ; — this  is 
the  education  which  the  missionary  gives  as  preparatory  to  and 
accompanying  the  reception  of  Christianity.  He  has  to  penetrate 
through  the  drifting  sands  of  centuries  in  order  to  reach  what  he 
believes  lies  deeper  down,  that  lnDnniiiti/  which,  however  weak,  is 
capable  of  being  elevated  as  sure  as  the  Son  of  God  has  become 
the  Son  of  Man  !  In  seeking  to  do  this  there  is  no  part  of  his 
work,  the  most  common  or  the  most  secular,  wliich  cannot  be 
turned  by  the  skilful  workman  to  account.  '  Every  wise-hearted 
man  in  whom  the  Ijord  puts  wisdom  and  understanding'  will  thus 
'  know  how  to  work  all  manner  of  work  for  the  service  of  the 
Siinetuary.'  While  everything  is  thus  made  subservient  to  the 
highest  end,  most  unquestionably  the  Gospel  itself,  by  the  very 
ideas  which  it  gives,  through  doctrine  and  precept,  history  and 
biography — above  all,  through  the  life,  death,  and  resurrection  of 
Jesus  Christ — regarding  the  character  of  God  and  man,  is,  by  its 
own  divine  light,  the  most  powerful  means  of  opening  and  edu- 
cating tbto  eye  which  is  itself  to  see  and  appreciate  this  light. 
The  Gospel,  therefore,  must  ever  accompany,  as  master  and  guide, 
every  other  kind  of  instrumentality  employed  in  an  educational 
Christian  mission. 

"Another  object  originally  contemplated  by  those  institutions  was 
to  raise  up  a  native  ytiiiistn/  from  among  the  converts,  who  should 
be    able    to    carry    on    the   work    of   evangelisation    among   theii 


APPENDIX  427 

brethren  as  no  foreigners  or  temporiiry  residents  in  the  country 
could  possibly  do,  and  thus  ultiiuattly  to  obtain  from  among  the 
people  themselves  that  supply  of  missionaries  which  should  per- 
manently meet  the  wants  of  the  country.  The  advantages  of  such 
a  class  are  so  obvious  that  I  need  do  little  more  than  allude  to 
the  subject.  "When  India  is  Christianised  it  must  be  by  her  own 
people.  We  are  strangers  and  foreigners,  and,  as  far  as  we  can 
discover,  must  ever  be  so,  Nature  decrees,  '  Hitherto  shalt  thou 
come,  but  no  further.'  Immigration  and  permanent  settlement 
are  for  us  impossible.  Our  work  towards  India  must  therefore  be 
from  without,  and  in  order  to  quicken  and  develop  from  within 
her  own  individualicy  in  a  Christian  form.  At  present  we  are 
singularly  and  almost  profoundly  ignorant  of  the  inner  life  of  the 
people  of  India,  almost  as  much  as  if  we  had  visited  a  different 
race  in  a  different  planet.  We  come  into  outward  contact  with 
them,  but  oceans  of  thought,  feeling,  association,  habits,  and 
beliefs  separate  us  mentally,  socially,  and  spiritually,  until  we  can 
meet  in  the  fellowship  of  a  common  Christianity  as  well  as  of  a  com- 
mon citizenship.  It  is  thus  evident  that  we  must  ultimately  rely 
upon  native  evangelists  and  pastors  to  educate  the  masess  of  the 
natives  in  the  Christian  religion,  and  to  form  them  into  a  Christian 
Church.  Every  method,  therefore,  which  can  be  devised  for  the 
raising  up  and  thoroughly  educating  such  men,  suited  to  meet  the 
various  ranks  and  castes  of  Hindoo  and  Mohammedan  society,  the 
most  learned  as  well  as  the  most  ignorant,  should  engage  the  most 
earnest  attention  of  the  Christian  Church.  At  present  we  are  but 
feeling  our  way  towards  this  all-important  end. 

*'  You  will  now  very  naturally  inquire  how  far  our  school  system 
has  succeeded,  after  having  had  a  fair  trial,  in  adding  converts 
and  native  evangelists  to  the  Christian  Church.  The  results  of 
Dr,  Duff's  missionary  schools  may  be  taken  as  the  most  favourable 
example.  He  had  the  honour  not  only  of  beginning  the  system 
in  Calcutta,  hut  of  carrying  it  on  for  the  long  period  of  thirty-five 
years  ;  for  although  he  left  the  Church  of  Scotland  and  joined 
the  Free  Church  in  1843,  yet  he  continued  his  mission  in  other 
buildings  with  unabated  vigour  and  unwearied  zeal.  He  was 
assisted,  moreover,  by  a  staff"  of  missionaries  who,  in  learning  and 
ability,  were  worthy  of  their  distinguished  leader ;  so  that  the 
system,  it  must  be  confessed,  has  had  the  fairest  possible  trial, 
without  interruption  or  weakness.  Its  agency,  too,  has  always 
been  strong  and  effective.  The  number  of  its  principal  and 
blanch  stations  in  Bengal  is  12,  with  51  Christian  agents,  in- 
cluding  4   ordained    European    missionaries  ;   an    average  attend- 


42  8  APPENDIX. 

ance  of  upwards  of  3,000  scholars,  male  and  female.  Two 
ordniiicd  native  evangelists  are  employed,  and  5  agents  are 
engaged  in  vernacular  preaching  in  the  Mofussil,  or  in  '  the 
country.'  Now,  the  number  of  converts  since  the  beginning  ol 
the  mission  until  the  present  year  has  been  2UG.  Not  one, 
as  far  as  I  can  discover,  is  reported  for  last  year.  As  to 
onlained  missionaries,  three  only  have  been  contributed  by  the 
institution  since  its  commencement.  The  same  general  results 
have  been  obtained  from  the  institution  at  Madras  and  Bombay, 
hitherto  conducted  by  as  able,  accomplished,  and  devoted  mis- 
sionaries as  have  laboured  in  India.  The  names  of  the  late  John 
Anderson,  of  Madras,  and  of  the  venerable  and  learned  Dr.  Wilson, 
of  Bombay,  whom  God  has  spared  to  labour,  will  ever  be  asso- 
ciated with  the  history  of  missions  in  India, 

"Looking  only  to  such  results  as  can  be  expressed  by  mere 
statistics,  those  I  have  given  may  possibly  be  recognised  as 
proofs  of  failure  by  one  ignorant  of  India,  or  comparing  them 
with  those  gathered  from  other  fields  of  missionary  labour.  I 
might,  however,  easily  show  the  value  of  those  results,  and  defend 
them  from  the  charge  of  insignificance,  l^y  showing  the  quality  and 
influence  of  the  converts  who  form  the  native  churches  connected 
with  that  mission  and  with  other  mission  schools  in  In'lia,  and 
thus  prove  the  greatness  of  the  victory  by  the  difiiculty  of  the 
battle,  and  the  strength  and  importance  of  the  position  which  it  has 
thus  secured  with  reference  to  the  final  conquest  of  the  land  ;  or 
I  might  even  compare  the  number  of  those  converts  with  the 
number  of  missionaries  employed,  as  proving  a  success  equal  to 
that  of  any  other  mission  in  similar  circumstances.  But  putting 
aside  these  and  many  other  elements  of  a  success  which,  in  my 
opinion,  is  unquestionable  and  remarkable,  even  as  tested  by 
statistics,  I  could  most  conscientiously  defend  it  on  a  lower  but 
sufficiently  solid  and  hopeful  ground.  Were  its  work  confined  to 
the  walls  of  the  institution,  and  bad  it  as  yet  never  made  a  single 
convert,  would  it,  I  ask,  in  this  case,  however  painful  and  dis- 
appointing it  might  be  to  the  ardent  and  hopeful  missionary  or  to 
tlie  Church,  be  unworthy  of  our  continued  confidence  and  un- 
faltering support  ?  I  can  anticipate  but  one  reply  by  those  who 
have  at  all  comprehended  the  actual  condition  of  Hindoo  society, 
even  as  I  have  tried  to  describe  it,  and  the  nature  and  ditficulty  of 
the  work  to  be  done  before  its  heathenism  can  be  given  up,  and  a 
genuine  living  Christianity  substituted  in  its  place.  For  realise  if 
you  can  what  the  eflV-ct  must  be,  as  preparing  the  Avay  for  Christ- 
ianity, of  thousands  of  youth  nearly  every  year  sent  forth  into 
society  to  occupy  positions    of   trust  and    influence  from  uU  the 


APFEiXDIX.  429 

mission  scLools  in  India  ;  not  a  few  of  their  pupils  truly  con- 
verted to  God,  and  all  well  instructed  in  Christianity,  in  its  evi- 
dences, facts,  and  moral  teaching  ;  the  minds  of  all  considerablj' 
enlightened,  their  knowledge  and  means  of  knowledge  vastly 
increased,  and  their  whole  moral  tone  and  feelings  changed  and 
elevated  !  I  am  compelled  to  reiterate  the  idea  that  the  work  thug 
done  by  the  mission  school  is  not  the  taking  down  a  bi'ick  here  or 
there  from  the  beleaguered  wall,  but  that  of  sapping  it  from  below, 
until,  like  the  walls  of  Jericho,  and  by  the  same  Almighty  power, 
though  differently  applied,  it  falls  in  one  great  ruin  to  the  ground  ; 
while  at  the  same  time  it  is  preparing  the  ground,  digging  the 
foundations,  and  gathering  materials  for  building  up  a  new  living 
temple  to  the  Lord, 

"  In  regard  to  the  raising  up  of  a  native  ministry,  that  too  may 
be  pronounced  a  failure,  if  those  who  have  been  ordained  are 
counted  merely  and  not  weighed.  But  that  the  diffeient  mission 
schools  in  India  have  raised  from  among  their  converts  a  most 
intelligent,  educated,  and  respected  body  of  native  clergy,  cannot 
be  denied.  I  remember  a  high  caste  native  gentleman  of  wealth 
and  education  speaking  of  one  of  those  clergy,  and  saying  to  me, 
*  that  is  a  man  whose  acquaintance  you  should,  if  possible,  make. 
He  was  of  my  caste,  and  became  a  Christian ;  but  he  is  a  learned 
and  thoroughly  sincere  man,  and  people  here  honour  him.'  This 
said  much  for  both  Hindoo  and  Christian.  Nor  do  I  think  such 
cases  so  rare  as  people  at  home  or  abroad  are  apt  to  imagine. 
It  is,  no  doubt,  greatly  to  be  desired,  that  we  had  many  more  such 
men — hundreds,  or  even  thousands,  instead  of  a  few  dozen  or  so; 
but  the  difficulties  are  at  present  great,  not  only  in  finding  the 
right  kind  of  men,  but,  when  found,  in  supporting  them  where  as 
yet  no  congregations  exist,  and  in  inducing  them  to  be  the  sub- 
ordinates of  foreign  missionaries  with  comparatively  small  salaries, 
when  so  many  better  paid  and  more  independent  positions  can  be 
found  in  other  departments  of  labour.  For  while  there  are  many 
cases  of  unselfish  and  disinterested  labour  among  native  pastors, 
yet  the  demands  of  others  for  '  pay  and  power  '  make  the  question 
of  native  pastors  in  towns  embarrassing  at  times  to  the  home 
Churches.  But,  in  spite  of  those  difficulties,  good  men  have  been 
and  are  being  ordained,  and  we  can  at  present  see  no  more  likely 
source  of  obtaining  them,  for  the  cities  at  least,  than  by  our  mis- 
sionary educational  institutions.  Before  closing  this  part  of  my 
subject  and  proceeding  to  ofier  a  few  practical  suggestions  as  to 
present  duties  with  reference  to  our  Missions,  permit  me  to  repeat  a 
conviction  which  I  stated  at  our  great  missionary  meeting  at  Cal- 
cutta as  to  our  keeping  steadily  before  the  mind  of  the  Churches 


+30  APPENDIX. 

at  home  and  abroad  the  vast  inipoitance  of  a  native  Church  bein" 
organized  in  India.  By  a  native  Church  I  do  not  certainly  mean 
— what,  in  present  circumstances,  we  thankfully  accept — native 
Churches  in  ecclesiastical  connection  with  the  different  European 
and  American  missions.  It  surely  cannot  be  desii-ed  by  any 
intelligent  Christian.  I  might  use  stronger  language,  and  asset  t 
that  it  ought  not  to  be  tolerated  by  any  reasonable  man,  unless 
proved  to  be  unavoidable,  that  our  several  Churches  should  re- 
produce, in  order  to  perpetuate  in  the  new  world  of  a  Christian- 
ized India,  those  forms  and  symbols  which  in  the  old  world  have 
become  marks,  not  of  our  union  as  Christians,  but  of  our  disunion 
as  sects.  We  may  not,  indeed,  be  responsible  for  these  divisions 
in  the  Church  which  have  come  down  to  us  from  the  past.  We 
did  not  make  them,  nor  can  we  now,  perhaps,  unmake  them.  We 
find  ourselves  boru  into  some  one  of  them,  and  so  we  accept  of  it, 
and  make  the  most  of  it  as  the  best  we  can  get  in  the  whole 
circumstances  in  which  we  are  placed.  But  must  we  establish 
these  ditierent  organizations  in  India  ?  Is  each  part  to  be  made 
to  represent  the  whole  ?  Is  the  grand  army  to  remain  broken  up 
into  separate  divisions,  each  to  recruit  to  its  own  standard,  and  to 
invite  the  Hindoos  to  wear  our  respective  uniforms,  adopt  our 
respective  Shibboleths,  learn  and  repeat  our  respective  war  cries, 
and  even  make  caste  marks  of  our  wounds  and  scars,  which  to  us 
are  but  the  sad  mementoes  of  old  battles  ?  Or,  to  drop  all  meta- 
phors, shall  Christian  converts  in  India  be  necessarily  grouped 
and  stereotyped  into  Episcopal  Churches,  Presbyterian  Churches, 
Lutheran  Churches,  Methodist  Churches,  Baptist  Chui'ches,  or 
Independent  Churches,  and  adopt  as  their  respective  creeds  the 
Confession  of  Faith,  the  Thirty-nine  Articles,  or  some  other 
formula  approved  of  by  our  ft)rei'athers,  and  the  separating  sign 
of  some  British  or  American  sect  ?  Whether  any  Church  seriously 
entertains  this  design  I  know  not,  though  I  suspect  it  of  some, 
and  I  feel  assured  that  it  will  be  realised  in  part,  as  conversions 
increase  by  means  of  foreign  missions,  and  be  at  last  perpetuated, 
unless  it  is  now  carefully  guarded  against  by  every  opportunity 
being  watched  and  taken  advantage  of  to  propagate  a  ditierent 
idea,  and  to  rear  up  an  independent  and  all-inclusiva  native  Indian 
Church.  By  such  a  Church  I  mean  one  which  shall  be  organized 
and  governed  by  the  natives  themselves,  as  far  as  possible,  iude- 
))endently  of  us.  We  could  of  course  claim,  as  Christians  and 
fellow  subjects,  to  be  recognised  as  brethren,  and  to  be  received 
among  its  members,  or,  if  it  should  so  please  both  parties,  serve 
among  its  ministers,  and  rejoice  always  to  be  its  best  friends  and 
generous  supporters.     In    all  this  we   would  only  have  them    tc 


APPENDIX.  431 

do  to  us  as  we  should  feel  bound  to  do  to  them.  Such  a  Church 
might,  as  taught  by  experience,  mould  its  outward  form  of  govern- 
ment and  worship  according  to  its  inner  wants  and  outward  circum- 
stances, guided  by  history  and  by  the  teaching  and  spirit  of  Christ- 
ianity. Its  creed — for  no  Christian  society  can  exist  Avithout  some 
known  and  professed  beliefs — would  include  those  truths  which 
had  been  confessed  by  the  Catholic  Church  of  Christ  since  the 
first;  and,  as  necessary  to  its  very  existence  as  a  Church  it  would 
recognise  the  supreme  authority  of  Jesus  Christ  and  His  apostles. 
It  would  also  have,  like  the  whole  Church,  its  Lord's-day  for  public 
worship,  and  the  Sacraments  of  Baptism,  and  the  Lord's  Supper. 
Thus  might  a  new  temple  be  reared  on  the  plains  of  India  unlike 
perhaps  any  to  be  seen  in  our  western  lands,  yet  with  all  our 
goodJy  stones  built  up  in  its  fabric,  and  with  all  our  spiritual 
worship  within  its  walls  of  the  one  living  and  true  God,  Father, 
Son  and  Holy  Spirit.  A  Church  like  this  would,  from  its  very 
nationality,  attract  many  a  man  who  does  not  wish  to  be  ranked 
among  the  adherents  of  Mission  Churches.  It  would  dispose, 
also,  of  many  difficulties  inseparable  from  our  position,  whether 
regarding  baptism  or  the  selection  and  support  of  a  native  ministry. 
And,  finally,  it  would  give  ample  scope,  for  many  a  year  to  come, 
for  all  the  aid  and  efi'orts  which  our  home  Churches  and  Missionaries 
could  afford  by  schools  and  colleges,  personal  labour,  and  also  by 
money  contributions,  to  establish,  strengthen,  and  extend  it. 

"  Moreover,  it  seems  to  me  that  India  afi'ords  varied  and  remark- 
able elements  for  contributing  many  varied  gifts  and  talents  to 
such  a  Church  as  this.  The  simple  peasant  and  scholarly  pundit, 
the  speculative  mystic  or  self- torturing  devotee,  the  peaceful  South- 
man  and  the  manly  North -man  ;  the  weak  Hindoo  who  clings  to 
others  of  his  caste  for  strength,  and  the  strong  aborigines  who  love 
their  individuality  and  independence  ; — one  and  all  possess  a 
power  which  could  find  its  place  of  rest  and  blessing  in  the  faith 
of  Christ  and  in  fellowship  with  one  another  through  Him.  Tho 
incarnate  but  unseen  Christ,  the  Divine  yet  human  brother,  would 
dethrone  every  idol ;  God's  Avord  be  substituted  for  the  Puranas  ; 
Christian  brotherhood  for  caste ;  and  the  peace  of  God,  instead  of 
these  and  every  weary  rite  and  empty  ceremony,  would  satisfy  the 
heart.  Such  is  my  ideal,  which  I  hope  and  believe  will  one  day 
become  real  in  India.  The  day,  indeed,  seems  to  be  far  otf  when 
*  the  Church  of  India,'  worthy  of  the  country,  shall  occupy  its 
place  within  what  may  then  be  the  Christendom  of  the  world.  A 
period  of  chaos  may  intervene  ere  it  is  created  ;  and  after  that, 
how  many  days  full  of  change  and  of  strange  revolutions,  with 
their  'evenings'  and    'mornings,'  may   succeed,  ere    it  enjoys  a 


452  APPENDIX. 

Sabbath  rest  of  holiness  and  peace  !  Ijiit  yet  that  Church  must  be, 
it'  India  is  ever  to  become  one,  or  a  nation  in  any  true  sense  of  the 
word.  For  union,  strength,  and  real  progress  can  never  hence- 
forth in  this  world's  history  either  result  from  or  coalesce  with 
Mohammedanism  or  Hindooism,  far  less  with  the  cold  and  heartless 
abstractions  of  an  atheistic  philosophy.  Hence  English  govern- 
ment, by  physical  force  and  moral  power,  viu^i,  with  a  firm  and 
unswerving  grasp,  hold  the  broken  fragments  of  the  Indian  races 
together,  until  they  are  united  from  within  by  Christianity  into  a 
living  organism,  which  can  then,  and  then  only,  dispense  with  the 
force  without.  The  wild  olive  must  be  grafted  into  the  '  root  and 
fatness'  of  the  good  olive-tree  of  the  Church  of  Christ;  and  whilo 
the  living  union  is  being  formed,  and  until  the  living  sap  begins  to 
flow  from  the  root  to  every  branch,  English  power  must  firmly  bind 
and  hold  the  parts  together.  Our  hopes  of  an  Indian  nation  are 
bound  up  with  our  hopes  of  an  Indian  Church ;  and  it  is  a  high 
privilege  lor  us  to  be  able  to  help  on  this  consummation.  The  West 
thus  gives  back  to  the  East  the  riches  which  it  has  from  the  East  re- 
ceived, to  be  returned  again,  I  doubt  not,  with  interest  to  ourselves. 
*'  But  when  shall  there  be  a  resurrection  in  this  great  valley  of 
death  ?  When  shall  these  dry  bones  live  ?  Lord,  Thou  knowest, 
with  whom  one  day  is  as  a  thousand  3ears,  and  a  thousand  years 
as  one  day  !  Let  us  have  faith  and  patience.  There  may  at 
first  be  but  a  noise  and  a  shaking,  and  then  the  bones  of  the  poor 
broken-up  and  disjointed  skeletons  of  humanity  may  come 
together,  and  after  a  while  sinews  and  flesh  may  cover  them,  and 
yet  no  breath  be  in  them  !  But  these  preparatory  processes  are 
not  in  vain.  A  resurrection-day  of  life  and  power  will  dawn  in 
the  fulness  of  time,  and  the  Lord  of  Life  will  raise  up  prophets, 
it  may  be  from  among  the  people  of  India,  who  will  meekly  and 
obediently  prophesy  as  the  Lord  commands  them  ;  and  then  the 
glorious  result  will  be  witnessed  from  heaven  and  earth  which  we 
have  all  prayed  and  laboured  and  longed  for  ;  the  Spirit  of  Life 
will  come,  and  these  dead  bodies  will  live  and  stand  on  their  feet 
an  exceeding  great  army  t  '  I  beheld,  and  lo,  a  great  multitude, 
which  no  man  could  number,  of  all  nations,  and  kindreds,  and 
people,  and  tongues,  stood  before  the  throne,  and  before  the  Lamb, 
clothed  with  white  robes,  and  palms  in  their  hands ;  and  cried 
with  a  loud  voice,  saying,  Salvation  to  our  God  which  sittoth  upon 
th'C  throne,  and  unto  the  Lamb.'  'Amen  :  Blessing,  and  glor}-, 
and  wisdom,  and  thanksgiving,  and  honour,  and  power,  and 
might,,  bo  unto  our  God  for  ever  and  ever.     Amen.' 


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